


Those, who could not hear the music.

by UniversalParadox_13



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Dance, Broken Household, Cheating, Even is Extra as Always, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Isak is a Closeted Romantic, Kissing, Life Choices, M/M, Minor Angst, Mutual Attraction, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-28 06:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 60,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10077416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversalParadox_13/pseuds/UniversalParadox_13
Summary: “What’s different?”“The way you look at him.” Jonas said to him, a guarded look in his eyes that spoke of concern. “It's like you're staring at the sun. Watching and taking it all in until it stings your eyes, but you bear through the pain, because it’s worth the prickling feeling afterwards that makes it real.”Sometimes Isak forgot how much of a poet his friend could actually be. Well, shit.Ballet AU or In this story, Isak and Even are ballet students, who collide while preparing for a play. It’s odd and exhilarating, and does not make sense to their yearning bodies and vulnerable hearts, until it does. But Even is in a steady relationship and Isak has no place for love his life, so there is always that.





	1. Should Have Known Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess this is my second attempt at writing an Isak+Even story, because apparently, I cannot get enough of these two. And this time, it’s a chaptered one. Ugh.
> 
> Hence, and without further ado, this is the Ballet AU that no one asked for. Or, maybe someone did and I just have no idea about it? Do correct me, if I’m wrong. 
> 
> I cannot promise you regular updates, because I do not know, how quickly I’ll be able to write them, since I have other things that need my attention. But, I can promise you that I will do my best to upload new chapters as soon as possible.
> 
> It would mean the world, if you could comment and let me know, what you think. I would really appreciate it! ^^
> 
> P.S. Plus points for those of you, who can guess the play without looking it up. XD
> 
> P.S.S. Take some time and go vote for Isak and Even at Eonline.com for TV’s Top Couple. They’ve made it to the final round thanks to an extremely devoted fandom! <3

 

*

_“You think so?” Isak could still remember the look of adoration on his mother’s face when he had asked her, a slow but confident smile spreading on her face, her eyes just barely glistening with unshed tears, which Isak would much later begin to associate with something completely different. It was that image of her that he still held closest to his heart, even though it was sometimes really difficult to do so._

_“I really do, my Shadowdancer,” she had answered him, a mere 7-year-old, who had yet to discover all the meanings behind the complexity of the world. Encasing his small frame in her embrace, she had caressed his chubby cheeks and Isak believed her. “You are going to take everyone’s breath away.”_

He should have known better.

 

*

The blood pumping in his ears came in drawn-out pulses, drowning out most of the noise from the frantic boys and girls that piled in front of the wall with the main bulletin board for the second-year students. Isak tried yet failed to keep an eye on Jonas, who had disappeared in the small crowd of people only moments ago and got caught up in the mass of pushing bodies doing their best to scan the pages that had been hung up earlier that day, each individual hoping to find their name somewhere on the list, which was not long to begin with.

Isak looked back down at the phone cradled in his palm, the illuminated screen displaying a contact void of any recent messages, with the last remnants of mutual interaction dating almost a year back, and his thumb hovered hesitatingly over the buttons of the visual keyboard. His mind raced with various thoughts, all the options of what he should write only making the effort seem pointless and unappreciated anyway as doubt settled deep and heavy in the pit of his stomach. Even though he had come as far as typing out a message several times in the past, he always ended up deleting it.  _Every single time._  He did not feel particularly remorseful about it either. He glanced back up in time to see Jonas emerging from the gradually dispersing group of people still hoarded in front of the board and immediately pocketed his phone.  _Maybe another time._  It was what he told himself after every attempt.  _Maybe another time I won’t be such a coward._

As soon as Jonas reached him, he gripped his shoulders with purpose, an enthusiasm in said action that almost resulted in him shaking Isak’s entire body, the gleeful expression on his face giving it all away.  _Happiness_.

“Dude, you’ll never guess.” The grin on Jonas’s face almost spilt his face in half and Isak felt so blessed for having a friend like him. One day he wished to tell him exactly how much it meant to him.

“I don’t know, I am actually pretty awesome at guessing.” Truth be told, he pretty much sucked, when it came to guessing, and Jonas knew as much. However, Jonas did not know that Ms Ellefsen may have given him a hint that morning, when he ran into her in the corridor on the ground floor, by congratulating him and giving him the thumbs up, the pride in her voice unmistakable. She had always been one of Isak’s favourites, not only because she believed he had a lot of potential since the day he started at the academy, but also because she was good at her job, especially when it came to motivating her students. An inspiring lecturer, indeed.

Hence, without having to go through the agony of taking what would be an unlikely guess, Isak was absolutely and positively convinced that he had scored a part in the play, which should have calmed his nerves considerably, but since that was the extent of his knowledge, it made him feel even more on edge than he originally thought it would. “Fuck it, tell me. You know I’m full of shit and I am about to legitimately lose it, so you need to tell me. Like,  _right now._ ”

“Demetrius.” Jonas clapped him on the shoulder for additional emphasis, and maybe also because he knew Isak needed that little bit of an extra ‘push’ for reality to settle in, _an extra hand to ground him_. “You are going to be Demetrius.”

Isak had no recollection of holding his breath until he felt it breeze past his barely parted lips at that very moment while oxygen filled his lungs. He was also extremely glad for Jonas’s hold on him. Otherwise, he would probably have swayed on his feet and that would have looked utterly ridiculous for someone of his height.  _Demetrius?_   _Wow,_ Jonas was right. _He would honestly not have guessed that._  He could have, but he would have never dared to. Especially not, when it came to something as big as the school’s End of Year Performance at the Royal Opera House, an event that ultimately defined every student’s journey and progress through Balletthøgskolen, Oslo’s Academy of Dance. Reserved for the students in the third year of the BA programs, it could feature up to three plays to accommodate all eligible dancers. The interesting thing was that each year one of those plays opened additional opportunities for second-year students by holding auditions, where they could try their luck in attaining a spot in the play. Isak knew he wanted to be a part of it since he enrolled into his first year at the academy, so when the sign-up sheet for second-year auditions ended up on the bulletin board he immediately put his name on it.

“For real? You’re not kidding, are you?” By the time Isak found his voice, he noticed that it vibrated with unravelling nerves while he spoke, albeit only slightly. “Jonas, you better not be kidding right now.”

“Are  _you_  for real?” The dumbfounded expression his friend gave him was answer enough, and Isak relaxed visibly. “Do you really think I’d be pulling your leg with something like this?”

“No, I guess not.” He laughed, mostly because he was relieved, felling like he could lift mountains or maybe walk on air. Or something in-between, but happy.  _Definitely happy._  And desperate to also share that happiness with his best friend. “Tell me you made it too so that I can be thrilled for the both of us and not feel guilty for your sorry ass.”

Sure, he wanted it to sound like a casual, light-hearted joke, but the undertone of insecurity to the answer of that question turned it into a half-aced approximation of it. Good thing Jonas did not even bat an eye as he raised a cocky eyebrow at him.

“Dream on, man. You’re currently looking at the one and only Peter Quince.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Isak, smiling brightly as he bumped Jonas’s upper arm with a fist. “Congrats, dude.”

“Says the guy, who managed to snatch one of the lead roles.” Jonas rolled his eyes in mock displeasure, trying to hold said expression, but quickly joined the other in gentle laughter. He squeezed Isak’s shoulder the moment their voices died down and looked at him sincerely for a split second. “But honestly, I’m really happy for you.”

Isak understood what he meant. There were a lot of ugly sides to a career in dancing. Pursuing ballet on a professional level could lead,  _had led_  to some nasty rivalry amongst individual dancers, who had once considered themselves colleagues or, even worse, friends. The world of dance was a stage, and for the most part that meant their lives consisted of one competition after the other, which sounded absolutely awful, when one thought about it. It made a person feel tremendously isolated at times. Luckily, Isak and Jonas found out soon enough there could not be an absolute ultimatum like that for their friendship and never would be.

“I need to text Magnus, he’s going to flip.” Jonas pulled out his phone and started typing out a message as soon as they made their way past the few remaining students lingering in front of the bulletin board to head to their next class. For once, Isak was really looking forward to professor Szolnoki's  _Choreographic Studies._

“As long as he doesn’t go  _all village idiot_  on us, I’m perfectly fine with that.” Isak smiled to himself as Jonas’s hearty laugh rang out in the corridor.

“You know, I would avoid walking the halls with him for the next few weeks, if I were you. He might just point you out to random people, declaring you two to be bosom buddies and managing to reveal some mortifying information while at it,” he responded after he had sent the message, looking at Isak in amusement. “Like that one time, when you got so drunk you thought you lost  _Steve_ , your pet unicorn, and cried for about half an hour―”

“Oh, God. Please stop.” Isak was quick to interrupt his friend in order to prevent him from ending that sentence. He did not need to be reminded of that _ever again_.

Jonas was still sniggering, when he checked his phone after the noise it made, announcing that he had received a message. A moment later, Isak felt Jonas’s hand connect with his upper arm in a harsh slap, fingers grasping the sleeve of his sweater in a tight grip. It had brought him to an abrupt stop, his eyes landing on his friend, who stared at the screen of his phone in what looked like bewilderment to Isak, since he appeared to be gaping almost motionlessly at the device in his hand.

“What happened?” The only response he got was Jonas looking at him with the exact same perplexity, before he glanced back down at his phone and mumbled something that sounded akin to  _‘damn lucky bastard is right’_ , so Isak repeated himself.

“Magnus is on the second floor and he managed to sneak a look at the list of the third-year students that will be in the play,” Jonas sighed and fixed Isak with a pointed stare. “Do you have any idea, who you’ll be dancing with?”

 _Oh, that._  Now that Jonas mentioned it, _actually he did not_. Isak was too caught up with the realization that he had made the play to think about whom he would be sharing the stage with. If he was being completely honest, he did not particularly care who it would be, which was odd since he should have been at least a little bit intrigued about his dance partners. Everyone else would be,  _would they not?_  Jonas continued before he had a chance to respond to the question. 

“Hear this,” he said as he recited what was supposedly written in the text. “Not only will Emma Larzen play the lovely Helena, but Hermia will be none other than Sonja Frostad Eggesbø.  _Thee_  Sonja Frostad Eggesbø.”  _Huh, interesting_. It is safe to say that Isak was familiar with Emma only because the boys had pointed her out in a crowd once and gushed about her looks so much, Isak could still vaguely remember her face. However, he did know exactly, who Sonja was. Isak sometimes liked to refer to her as  _the prima ballerina_ , because she was unusually active in school activities outside of the required curriculum, apart from also being very dedicated to her studies and, according to what everybody else said, a good dancer as well. On top of that, she was a real beauty, even Isak could see as much.

“You really are one lucky fucker, and you can’t even appreciate it.  _Fuck_ , this is so unfair.” Jonas shoved him, though Isak immediately felt it was a mere playful attempt at feigning envy. He saw it in Jonas’s face too and wondered how many times the guys were going to call him out on it.

While Isak never tried to hide his sexuality per se, he also never went out of his way to announce it to the world, simply because he did not want to. Why should he put a label on himself in regards to whom he was attracted to just to let other people judge him? Or applaud him for it, for that matter. Isak had made the conscious decision of ‘coming out’ on two occasions, and two occasions only. He told Jonas, when they were 13 and he knew for certain that ‘this is it’, because he did not want to leave his best friend in the dark about it. The other person he had decided to tell had been his mother, but he never came around to telling her. Now, he was not even sure, if he ever would.

Other people around him found out eventually or by accident, like Magnus and Mahdi had, wondering to this day how he was  _‘such a babe magnet, when he’d rather have a dick in his mouth’_. Magnus’s words, not his.

“Oh, I’m awfully sorry that _my_  sexual preference is making  _you_  sexually frustrated.”

“Yeah, who would have thought?” Jonas winked playfully at him, but checked his phone when it announced yet another incoming message. “Then again, maybe the last addition to your love quadrangle might get a much more enthusiastic response out of you.”

This only resulted in Isak smirking and raising a challenging eyebrow at him. _You know what, two can play that game._ “Then pray tell, who shall be my male rival?”

“Even Bech Næsheim.”

Isak almost ran into the push-and-pull doors head first, but since he was such a master of subtlety he caught himself just in time and managed to save face by making it look as though it was the floor’s fault.  _Stupid, slippery Vinyl floor's fault._

 

*

The first time Isak saw Even was on a gloomy Monday at the beginning of his second year.

He was rushing to his second class of the day after he had made a stop in the cafeteria, because he had skipped breakfast that morning, when he caught the movement inside the centrepiece studio of the first floor in the corner of his eye. This studio was occasionally used for a few exclusive classes, but was otherwise deemed a rather distracting environment for students in general, since it was designed to have only one wall of mirrors and three walls of indoor windows, enabling spectators outside the studio a look inside. The same way they did for Isak on that particular day.

Isak had ceased his walking, when he saw a dancer in the position of an  _arabesque_  with a perfect arch of the extended working leg in the air, the lean body trusting into motion with a side step and turn into a  _plié_ , holding the pose and eventually straightening the long limbs. Granting they were a fairly simple set of moves, it was their execution that alluded to an air of finesse. To his surprise, Isak had continued to stand there, in front of the windows, watching as the boy, with a head of hair similar to that of a cherub, side-stepped  _once, twice_ , delving into a sequence of  _glissades_  and  _brisés_ , ending in a neatly carried out  _sissone_. He was truly tall. Isak could see it even from the distance that stretched itself between them. There was something about the way he held himself, assuredly and adamantly, the way he moved with an ease and agility Isak had not seen someone move in a long time, _had not_   _felt_ someone move in a long time.  _In perfect control of his body._  And, if a beautifully executed  _revoltade_  thereafter made the hair on his arms stand on end, he would not mention it to anyone.

As soon as he had heard a fit of giggles somewhere close, Isak broke out of his staring stupor and saw three first-year girls a few windows down, watching the dancing male as well. They appeared to be whispering amongst each other, somewhat poorly trying to cover up their squealing voices, but the stars in their eyes gave them away.  _They are crushing_ , Isak had thought, a moment later fearing the situation made it look like he was doing it too, like he was admiring the person with a similar adoration plastered on his face. Which is why, Isak quickly shook his head to clear his mind before jogging past the girls without another glance at the anonymous dancer. He had been in a rush anyway.

By the end of that day, Isak knew the dancer’s name.  _Even Bech Næsheim_. A dancer, who would for the most part remain an unknown persona and an occasionally fleeting image in the hallways.

 

*

“You know what?  _Screw you_ , that’s what.” Magnus did not even wait long enough for him to get seated at their table and lay down his lunch tray, with Jonas assuming a seat to his left as always, before pointing an accusing finger at him. “This is  _so unfair_ , man.”

“Huh, funny. That’s exactly what he said.” With a blatantly dull expression on his face, Isak motioned to Jonas, who nodded his head while taking a big bite out of his sandwich. Even so, Magnus was still glaring at him kind of indignantly, his mouth hanging open, which only made Isak shrug his shoulders nonchalantly. “It’s not my fault you feel the need to get off to every girl just because you’re still a deprived virgin.”

“Ouch, bro.” Mahdi commented, but he was smiling all the while. “He has a point though.”

“No, he doesn’t,” remarked Magnus, obviously still not over it and desperately trying to prove at least something with his incessant nagging. “What he has is a natural gift for attracting hot women, which is a complete waste in itself. Why don't I ever get lucky with chicks like that?”

“Because you’re a socially awkward nerd, with horrible flirting skills and no brain-to-mouth filter,” Isak said matter of fact, tearing off a piece of his raisin bun and flicking it into his mouth.

“You’re also majoring in jazz dance. Just saying,” added Jonas as an afterthought, resulting in a deep chuckle from Mahdi and an easy-going sideways high five from Isak. Sometimes, Isak felt a little bad about how they continuously made Magnus the butt of every joke due to literally everything that came out of his mouth, but then again, it never seemed to bother him, so Isak never pondered about it for too long. Harmless teasing was all they aimed for and Magnus knew that.

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much, since you wouldn’t stand a chance anyway,” Mahdi intervened with an exaggerated swing of his hand through the air. “No offense, but your more than average qualifications could not possibly satisfy Emma’s high standards and Sonja is in a steady relationship of 4 years.  _4 years_ , dude.”

“Excuse me, how come I’ve never heard of this?!” Magnus suddenly barked out, mouth stuffed with some sort of half chewed-up bread, which meant that it was difficult to understand him and even more disgusting to watch. Swallowing down the last of the food, he gestured towards Jonas and Isak. “Did you guys know this?” The silence, he was met with, said everything.  _Apparently, they did not._

“It’s pretty much under the radar, but yeah,” explained Mahdi very casually, like it was no big deal. “She’s been going strong with that one dancer, who went to the Royal Ballet School the past year. He came back to take some additional classes in order to graduate from KHiO, as far as I know.”

Isak had heard about that. The dancer, who got invited to the Royal Ballet School in London for a special one-year program by the time he finished his second year at Balletthøgskolen. In order to do so, he would have to miss his final year at KHiO, which would prevent him from graduating, but due to such a prestige opportunity, the academy pulled some strings, authorizing the exchange to count as the student's third year at KHiO, on condition that he would return the following year to complete some mandatory classes and graduate from the academy. Isak did not know all of the details, but he knew who that supposed dancer was. Even Bech Næsheim.

If Mahdi was right, that could only mean one thing. Sonja was in a 4-year-old relationship with Even. Isak had no time to really process that information, because Magnus shrieked unabashedly, oblivious to the stares he received from some students siting at nearby tables.

“You mean the  _Lysander_  guy?! The dancer, who will be your rival in the play?” Magnus looked at Isak for some sort of confirmation, though Isak could barely keep up with his questions to provide him with an answer. “His name’s Even, isn’t it?”

“Wait, he’ll also be in the play?”

“I didn’t tell you?” It was particularly funny, how Magnus managed to look genuinely confused, when he turned towards Mahdi, who had the decency to give him an annoyed expression and inform him that  _‘No, you’d only mentioned the girls and went on a rant right after.’_  Isak hid a smirk behind what remained of his pastry bread, when Magnus simply shrugged it off and went back to the topic at hand.

“I mean, what are the odds of them both landing lead roles in the same play,  _as lovers_  no less?”

“Actually, not that unlikely,” explained Jonas, after he had taken a sip of his soda. “Third-year students get to audition for a particular role in the performances, so it would make sense for them to audition for those roles, if they’re indeed a couple.”

“And, _what a couple_. Can you believe it? Sonja is already such a bombshell, but then there’s that Even guy, who is also a total hottie,” Magnus grinned delightedly, switching his gaze from one boy to the other before finally locking eyes with Isak. “Right, Isak?”

To make something clear, this was not the first time such a question had been directed at him, particularly by Magnus, so Isak was more or less used to being the consultant, when it came to the hotness of the male sex, but  _shit_ , just because he was gay did not mean he would be able to discern whether a guy is universally attractive or not,  _oh boy_. He told Magnus as much, but that never stopped him.

 _Still_ , Isak could not help but think of Even.  _Even_ , the dancer he saw bend so gracefully to his will, with legs that carried his weight so effortlessly across the floor and arched in accurate angles. He remembered the outline of his lean yet muscled torso that stood out under his tight T-shirt as he moved. He remembered the face with a fair, almost pale complexion and scattered with beauty spots, when he saw him in the cafeteria once. He remembered the deep sound of his voice, when he heard him laughing with a friend in front of the institute, while he was on his way home.

_He remembered how it felt._

“Sure, I guess he’s pretty good-looking,” he responded eventually and caught the brief, but suspicious glance Jonas gave him in the corner of his eye. Isak knew why, but he tried to ignore it and went back to eating his lunch.

The only other time Isak had uttered those exact words, he ended up besotted with the boy he was referring to, a boy who was three years older than him and made him think he would give him the moon, if he asked. Isak dove blindly, head first into love, just so the guy could ruthlessly crush his heart into pieces.

He was only 14 years old at the time.

 

*

“I kind of feel like I’ve gotten lost, don’t you?”

Isak craned his neck upwards to look at his friend, who was getting down onto the floor next to him, joining him in a straddle stretch. Leaning heavily forward with his upper body, most of his weight resting evenly distributed on his arms and hands, which he had extended out in front of him, Isak glanced around at all the pupils, who lounged around the available space of the stage area, likewise stretching their limbs and absentmindedly chatting with one another in smaller groups.

Finding oneself in a confined space with third-year students of classical ballet, one’s seniors, who may have a much bigger amount of knowledge and experience?  _Of course it’s a pressure no second-year student feels comfortable with._  Two weeks after the announcement of the results for the End of Year Performance plays, they had their first meeting with the entire cast of dancers under the supervision of professor Almaas and two dance instructors, one of which was an associate professor Isak did not know. With a directive to gather in  _Auditorium 2_ , all of them were currently in the process of warming up, while waiting for the faculty members to arrive.

Isak noticed Noora and Vilde, who gave him a small wave from across the room as soon as Jonas and he entered the stage through a side entrance. He returned a smile and wave of his own in acknowledgement. Amongst the few other second-years that got into the play, they were the only two Isak was specifically acquainted with, since they somehow managed to venture into each other’s friend groups by the end of first year. Nonetheless, Isak and Jonas settled into a different spot not far from the stage’s right wing.

“It is a bit intimidating, right?” Isak grinned as he made a move to lean over one side, spreading his upper body horizontally above the leg while his hands reached out for his foot, doing his best at loosening the joints in his pelvic area. “How is Thea doing, by the way?”

“She’s good,” replied Jonas as he leaned down the middle of his outspread legs. “She’s got the hang of university life pretty much figured out by now. Mom and dad are just relieved that at least one of their children chose a solid career path.”

Jonas may have chuckled as he said it, but Isak knew it bothered him more than he was ready to admit. It was not even as though Jonas’s parents disagreed with their son’s choice of pursuing ballet professionally,  _not in the slightest_ , but that did not mean it was easy for parents in general to get behind the idea of their children going after such a troublesome, unsteady profession. It meant a lot of dedication, late hours and physical torment for their precious youngsters, it meant dealing with rejection and managing a healthy diet since early childhood, but most of all, constantly feeling an anxiety and uncertainty, when it came to prospects of finding a job in the future. Isak experienced it also,  _all too well_.

“Bullshit, they are so proud of you. I can still remember, when they showed up at our first play in lower secondary school with huge colourful banners.”

The cheery laugh that left Jonas’s throat was all Isak needed to hear, and he could not help but laugh along with him, the memory still fresh in his mind. “ _Jesus._  As much as I love them, that had been utterly embarrassing.”

 _To each his own._ Isak shrugged noncommittally, secretly wishing his parents would have done something like that for him, because  _embarrassment be damned_  for that kind of parental support and love.  _Sometimes Isak wished he would have done it all differently._

He looked around for his water bottle, quickly realizing its absence, when he failed to find it.

“Shoot, I forgot my water in the changing room.”

Jonas checked his phone, quirking one of his bushy eyebrows in a peculiar way. “Technically, the meeting has already begun, so I don’t think you’ll manage to get it before the instructors arrive. You can share with me.”

“I bet I can prove you wrong.” Isak jumped to his feet in no time, and without as much as a look in the direction he was headed, he set into a sprint for the door.

He did not manage to make it far before he collided with another body, his shoulder receiving most of the impact so that a sudden pain shot through his arm. He grunted due to the discomfort, grabbing his shoulder to irrationally try and soothe the spams of his muscles.  _Fuck._  Turning towards the other person, he was ready to tell them off in mild irritation, because  _damn that hurt_ , but instantly changed his mind.

Isak’s words died on his tongue the moment he took in the individual before him, suddenly much more insecure about standing there and holding his shoulder, even though the ache had already stopped almost entirely. Considering that he would not have gone with the previous choices of  _‘watch it’_ or  _‘dude, seriously’_ , a simple  _‘sorry about that’_  would have done the trick, but the only response that left Isak’s mouth had him feeling like an idiot.

“Hi.”

 _Even_  just blinked at him a few times, his face surprisingly blank when looking at Isak. And, if that did not make Isak feel even more uncomfortable than he already was, he did not know what could. He had no idea how to react now, with Even standing there in front of him. For the first time. But then again,  _nothing says ‘first meeting’ more than almost knocking someone over._   _Holy crap_. Isak figured that balking out of the room as fast as possible would be the most appropriate option at his disposal.

Except, that is when  _Even_  regarded him with a curious look, tilting his head to the side, so Isak decided against it.

“Hi.” He smiled, almost like he was positively taken aback, squinting his eyes a moment thereafter, his lips perking up into half a grin. “That’s a little bit cliché.”

The timbre of his voice was even deeper than Isak thought it would be. He had to admit that it was a ridiculously nice voice to listen to, which is probably why he was so engrossed in it that it took him way too long to respond. “What is?”

As Even was about to open his mouth to give him an answer, the instructors entered the stage, followed closely by professor Almaas, who thought it would be appropriate to announce their entry by decisively clapping his hands to gain the room’s attention.

“Okay, gather up people,” professor Almaas announced in a loud voice, making sure everybody heard him. “Apologizes for keeping you all waiting, but now that we’re finally here, let’s begin. _Apace, apace_.”

Making his way to downstage centre, his bag still shouldered and a stack of papers tucked under one arm, he noticed the two boys that had been so suddenly interrupted by his arrival. In his late 40’s, professor Almaas was an ordinary looking man, with generic facial features and a body in immaculate shape. _Ordinary_ , Isak reminded himself. _Never judge a book by its cover_.

“Fantastic,” he said as he approached them, placing a hand on Even’s shoulder. “ _Good Lysander_ , thus I see you made yourself acquainted with your rival _, Demetrius_. Isak Valtersen, one of our skilled second-year additions,” he gave Isak an approving nod of his head in greeting before removing himself from their company. Isak watched him leave, turning his attention back to Even and catching him staring at him expectantly.  _He did not know what to make of it._

“Well then,  _Demetrius_ ,” said Even as he extended a hand towards Isak. His now fully open smile emanated a pleasant feeling that surrounded Isak, his slightly crooked teeth a charming trait that suited him. “I look forward to our collaboration.”

By the time Isak awkwardly slid his palm into Even’s, his eyes remaining on their now joined hands, he felt his stomach churn with insecurity. Even’s palm was delightfully warm, and something told Isak that this,  _all of this_ was a bad idea.  _Never mind how good it felt._

Isak should have known better. Unfortunately,  _he never did_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Emma is a third-year in this story, hence older than all of the boys in the squad. Same goes for Chris (in past references), who is supposed to be three years older than Isak instead of two. Or Sonja, who is a year younger than in the actual series. Just, some age altercations. ^^ 
> 
> *I have no idea what Sonja’s last name is supposed to be, so I used the actress’s real surname for the purpose of this story. If anybody knows the character’s surname, let me know and I will change it.
> 
> *Magnus is a jazz dance student. I don’t know. XD Also, Mahdi is not a dance student, but will probably be revealed to study design or something similar at the Academy of Arts. 
> 
> *The number of students in various dance departments at KHiO is bigger than in reality, meaning KHiO does not have as many students in each year as it appears in this story.


	2. Pirouettes Make The World Fuzzy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I’m back? Technically, I was never gone, but I’m kind of back with a new chapter, which I really hope all of you will enjoy.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments on the previous chapter! <333
> 
> It is such commentary that inspires me and gives me the drive to write, so DO CONTINUE to leave me LONG, ELABORATE COMMENTS, because I just love to read them. Seriously, I DO.
> 
> Hence, remember to COMMENT and write your hearts out! :)
> 
> P.S. No plus points for this round, unless you’d like to try and guess Isak’s family situation and what caused it, although I won’t be able to tell you much as of yet. XD
> 
> P.S.S. Isak and Even won Eonline.com’s poll for TV’s Top Couple! I am so happy, as I know is the whole fandom, and they’ve made it this far thanks to all their headstrong, relentless and above all devoted fans from all over the world! Alt er love! <3

*

_Up until his early adolescence, Isak had been convinced he had mastered pirouettes when he was 9 years old, which was not actually true, but it was not completely wrong at the same time. ‘Mastered’ is a pretty big word and Isak figured that out eventually. Nonetheless, he had been a talented dancer even as a child or so his mother used to tell him. It is funny how the significant words of that statement became ‘used to’ over time._

_He could still remember how he had tried relentlessly, how he had practiced until he all but aimlessly spun in countless circles, not even doing it right anymore, sooner or later becoming light-headed, if not a little bit delirious, and ending up throwing himself to the floor in a fit of giggles. He could still not explain why exactly, but he liked it._

_Pirouettes always made time pass faster while the world around him became fuzzier._

 

*

“Keep going, keep going.”

Rising from a  _plié_  into a  _demi-pointe_ , the muscles flexing in his legs, Isak went into the rotations with a powerful swing, keeping track of the non-supportive leg in  _retiré derrière_ , remembering to control his spinning with the weight on his other leg instead of trying to help himself with the force of his arms.  _The arms_ , he always reminded himself,  _they only follow. The legs lead the way_.

Sharp spotting helped maintain a steady balance as he turned several rounds of _fouetté en tournant en dehors_ , the working leg extending forward and whipping around to the side with the foot retracted to the knee of the supporting leg in  _retiré_.  _One more_ , then he spiralled out into an  _attitude turn_   _derrière_  before lowering himself from  _demi-pointe_  to move across the polished floor in quick steps, feet practically gliding on the surface of the ground.

“That’s it, Isak. Now push with that leg to go,” Ms Ellefsen motioned with her own limbs by softy hitting the extending leg as she regarded him in the wall of mirrors while he executed a  _brisé_. “You need to be faster.  _One, two_ , chin up.”

He brought his non-supportive leg closer to his body, bent it more, when moving back across the length of the floor for smaller consecutive jumps that ended in an _arabesque_ , his leg extended behind him in a high arch while his arms took care of additional balance. Lowering said leg, he did a simple half-turn that went into a position on one knee, his upper body curving slightly backwards, with arms held in a graceful attitude.

“Hold position,” Isak heard professor Ellefsen’s voice from somewhere behind him, where he could not see her. “And relax.”

Isak dropped his arms and stood up from his stance on the floor with a sigh that got oxygen to fill his lungs. He was still catching his breath, feeling the perspiration already start to cool on his skin, when the professor walked up to him. She smiled reassuringly, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve got your turns almost down to perfection, but your arms need more work,” she said, looking at him for affirmation regarding the advice. Ms Ellefsen was a relatively easy-going woman in her 30’s with a mop of disorderly hair that she always kept in a messy bun and an all-around quirky look to her. Despite her appearance, she was very well respected by all her students. “Remember, you have to hear my voice in your ears guiding you in your steps, even when I’m not there.”

Isak regarded her for a moment, taking in the information, and answered her with a simple nod of the head, his lungs still trying to pump in some additional air. He knew he had to work on his arms, sometimes more then he would like to admit.

 

*

By the time the second week of preparations for the play rolled around, everything seemed to be going relatively well. 

Their first meeting determined their schedule, practices for individual groups, all of the estimated work load and gave them an overall idea of the play, a “modern rendition of Shakespeare’s _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , with only minor changes to be taken so that the mythical theme would be preserved” or so they were told. The entire cast would have one dance rehearsal per week at the beginning before extending that to two, depending on the progress of the groups. The groups were necessary for dancers that were meant to interact intensely on stage in order to get familiar with their dance partners and work on their most relevant parts. That is why the ‘leading’ groups had to have separate rehearsals at least twice a week from the very start.

Similar to the _The Fairies_ ,  _The Lovers_  that consisted of Emma, Sonja, Even and Isak himself had to put in the most effort on their own, although each group would work with an instructor of their own and their practice hours would be determined according to their arrangements, so that was good.

 _The Lovers_  had no problem agreeing on Tuesday and Friday afternoons.

 

*

Music filled Isak’s ears as he lay there, on the cool parquet floor of the dance studio in only a T-shirt and sweatpants, ear buds of his in-ear headphones tucked into his ears. It was a Tuesday, which meant he was waiting for the rest of his group in the otherwise empty practice room, mainly because he always finished earlier on Tuesdays.  _He had some time to spare, so what?_

Isak did not mind it at all. Some time, some  _well-deserved_   _trivial_  time, where he was allowed to do nothing and just shut off. Forget everything, and literally everything, if only for a few minutes. Isak considered it a blessing to feel the music as it washed over him, build within him with each beat until all his thoughts faded away and what remained was the music.  _The music_  that kept him sane between all the classical tunes he was surrounded day in, day out.

As a child he did not need any music other than the compositions he had for dancing, because it was enough.  _Now, it was never enough anymore._  So Isak indulged in  _his_  music whenever he could, even during the time spent waiting in the dance studio on that particular day. Though, after a while something felt off and Isak could not really put his finger on it.

 _You know how you can sometimes tell that someone is watching you?_  That eerie feeling that someone is there, but you cannot see them, because you are not looking. Because you are simply minding your own business, lying on a cool parquet floor of a dance studio and listening to music with your eyes closed.  _It was pretty similar to that._

In order to convince himself that nothing and no one was actually there, Isak dared to open his eyes and almost jumped out of his skin, his heart clenching in sudden fright as he managed to tug his ear buds out of his ears with an embarrassing shriek falling from his mouth, because there was  _Even_ , his face hovering above him at a close distance, looking directly at him.

“Fucking hell,” Isak sighed and ran a hand over his face, when he heard Even’s rich laugh fill the spacious room. Then he remembered that he had just screamed like a little girl. _Great, how mortifying_. “That is such an asshole move, man.”

“Isak Valtersen, I had no idea you have such a dirty mouth,” Even said, feigning an excessively appalled but clearly amused expression and Isak could see right through it, even as he made an effort of rising to a sitting position. “Do your parents know you speak like that?”

Isak immediately tensed up.

It had been a while since someone had asked him, sincerely or rhetorically, about his parents, but it still left a sour aftertaste in Isak’s mouth. Most people did not know better, but that did not mean he did not feel at least a little bit uneasy, when speaking about them.  _He disliked it_  to put it lightly _._  The answers were always extremely stilted, because he had nothing good to say, so he tried to avoid it as much as possible.

Even must have noticed Isak’s unresponsiveness or the uncomfortable expression he was sporting, the brightness of his smile fading rather quickly, a mildly flustered look setting into his features.  _Especially the eyes_ , as Isak observed.

“Sorry, I didn’t know calling you out on your coarse vocabulary would be a sensitive topic,” he remarked, biting his lower lip rather distractedly. Isak was thankful that he came to such a conclusion, maybe even on purpose, maybe because  _he knew better_. Whatever the case, Isak was not about to correct him. “If it makes you feel any better, apparently I make these funny wheezing sounds, when I sleep. It’s horrible. And really annoying, from what I hear.”

To the surprise of both, Isak snorted in laughter almost instantly, because  _what a random thing to say_ , the awkward tension that had fallen over them lifting. And, if it returned a genuine smile onto Even’s face all the same, Isak did not pay attention to it.  _Not at all._

The few times they interacted during the couple of dance rehearsals up until that point proved to not be much since that consisted of several polite remarks at first and a bunch of good-humoured banter back and forth from then on. It was not much, but somehow it was pleasant and easy.  _Oddly familiar._

“What are you even listening to?” Even grabbed Isak’s phone of the ground and stuck an ear bud in one ear before Isak could fully register what he was doing.

“Uh, that’s not―”

The way Even looked at him then, mouth morphing into a grin baring the other’s teeth, had Isak rethink his choices for the playlist currently on replay.  _Scratch that_ , he should have definitely changed it.  _Like yesterday._

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Even was scrolling through the list of songs while a particular piece continued to play and could be heard through the ear bud stuck in his ear. “Isak Valtersen, a fan of  _Shawn Mendes_  and  _Years & Years_.”

“Shut up, like you’re better,” Isak weakly defended himself, his face now probably flushed several shades darker. “I bet you secretly listen to _Halsey_  or something.”

“Well, she’s not bad. But I’m more devoted to the 80’s. You know,  _Eurythmics_ and  _A-ha_ ,” Even pointed out casually with a shrug of the shoulder to which Isak raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Seriously, the era of fashion disasters and hair bands? That’s what you’re going with?”

With a smile that was as radiant as ever, Even pulled out the ear bud and returned the device to the other boy before retrieving his own, complete with ear buds, out of his pocket.  _Something they apparently have in common_ , Isak guessed _. Phone with ear buds always at hand_. It had to be a dancer thing.

“You shouldn’t judge the book by its cover.” Isak could not argue with him there. _He knew that all too well._ “Have you even tried listening to any of it?”

 _In all honesty, no_. Isak was not particularly familiar with 80’s music, apart from maybe being able to recognize some of the more popular tunes by accident, and obviously knowing who  _A-ha_  were, but that was the extent of his knowledge regarding 80’s music. He was born almost 10 years after the 80’s ended, so it should not be much of a surprise that he was just never interested in looking into it, especially with all the other music out there nowadays.

Before Isak was able to catch any of it, Even had already scooted closer to him so that their arms were almost touching and stuck an ear bud in Isak’s ear while he put the other in one of his own. He grinned at him, his pearly white teeth showing, and Isak had to remind himself how to properly breathe to not make a fool out of himself.  _Yet again, apparently._

“Be prepared to be amazed.”

Even pressed play on a song that Isak saw was titled  _Don't You (Forget About Me)_  by someone called  _Simple Minds_ , which seemed to ring a bell but did not tell him much otherwise, and suddenly an old-school beat filtered into his ear.  _It was okay._  And by the time the chorus rolled around, Isak had to admit it was pretty good.  _Especially the view_ _in front of him._

Considering that the view consisted of Even, sitting so close to him that Isak could feel the soft hairs on their arms brushing, sense the other’s body at such a proximity in general, watch the delicate arch of his neck and the fluffy locks that curled at the nape of it as the other continued to stare at his phone. And, like on that gloomy Monday at the beginning of his second year, standing in front of the indoor windows of the dance studio, he could not look away. When Even finally looked up at him, a tender smile gracing his lips, Isak became fully aware of how much more handsome Even was up close.

“Not bad, right?”

Isak did not respond and Even did not question him further. He just stared some more at Isak, the same way Isak kept staring right back at him, both seemingly taking in the other’s face in detail as the song continued to play. Isak realized Even had unusually kind eyes, strikingly blue in a way his never would be.

Somehow, and as cliché as it sounds, Isak felt like time had purposefully slowed down for them, their breathing becoming deep yet remaining calm, surprisingly in sync as they continued to look at each other from only inches apart. He was not completely convinced, but Isak thought he could also sense one of Even’s fingers faintly brush over his own right before the sound of the door opening disrupted whatever that was between them, female voices seeping into the enclosed space.

Isak and Even managed to bring some distance between them just as Emma and Sonja came into view, greeting the two boys as they made their way further into the room. Both of them rose to their feet to join the girls and when Even curled an arm around Sonja, bending down to give her a peck on the lips,  _‘whatever that was between them’_  was gone like it never even happened.

Like nothing of it had been real.

 

*

After the rehearsal, Isak ended up at the end of the hallway outside the practice room, where he collapsed against a wall and slid to the floor, remaining there for what seemed like at least fifteen minutes, ten of which were spent staring at the empty message bubble he had opened, trying to convince himself to  _not be a coward_ , trying to talk himself out of thinking _it was being pointless_. It did not seem to work.

All that had transpired over the course of the last four years in particular was more than mere bad memories Isak would be able to bury with time, instead all the pieces and bits kept coming back to him in vivid details, all of them reminders of how the people that meant the most to him fell apart right in front of his young, ignorant eyes and how maybe he had played a big part in it. He hated that it made him feel guilty, when it should not have, when he had been the one suffering the most in the aftermath of stupid decisions.  _Still was_.

At some point he had no choice other than to sever all ties, if he did not want to end up like  _them_.

Isak ran a hand through his hair, wondering how long he was going to keep this up, this stubborn pretence of being completely indifferent, drag it out until there would not be a way back anymore.  _Maybe there already was no way back_.

“Are you okay?” Isak lifted his eyes to Even, who was all of a sudden standing before him, clad in his olive green military windbreaker with a beanie already pulled over his head, obviously ready to head home for the day.

It took Isak more than a moment to understand what the other boy had meant by it, especially with the whirlpool of thoughts still spiralling out of control inside his head.

“Yeah,” he answered him, although not really convincingly. It was half-aced and, if Isak was positive it sounded exactly like that, then Even would probably see through it too. “I’m fine.”

The look on Even’s face told him he did not buy it.  _Great._

“I don’t know whether I can take your word for it. You’ve been staring, I’d say between accusingly and dejectedly, at your phone for quite a while now.”

“Are you stalking me?” Isak asked rather indignantly or was at least doing his best for it to sound that way, particularly because he hoped he could divert the conversation into another direction, getting the other flustered enough to make him change the topic and leave promptly. However, because Even’s facial features only softened some more, his eyebrows scrunching together just mildly enough, Isak was convinced it had not worked. 

“No. I’m making sure you’re okay.”

There was something in those words and the way they were said; the way the boy, who said them, was looking at him in that particular moment that had Isak feeling so much smaller and more vulnerable. And _so, so, so_ sick and tired of it all. Tired of pretending that he was _fine_ , whatever that meant.

“It’s complicated, I guess,” he exhaled a specifically heavy breath, gesturing to his phone by waving it through the air. “Let’s say that I fell out with someone really special and haven’t been able to bring myself to fix it. It’s kind of bothering me, that’s all.”  _A lot, really._ But Isak did not say as much. Even did not need to know that.

“Is there a reason for not being able to amend said relationship?”

Isak found it difficult to look at Even right then, so he chose to glare at his phone instead, moving it from one palm into the other a few times to buy himself some additional time.

“I feel like it’s too late.” _It felt odd saying it out loud._  It was the one thing he never told Jonas regarding the whole situation and what he thought about it. _It just made it all the more real._

When Isak dared to lift his head in order to peer at Even, trying to distinguish the expression on the other’s face, the boy in question seemed to be shuffling from one foot to the other, which was barely noticeable, while gnawing at his lower lip like he had done earlier in the studio.

“Do you want to hear my opinion?” Isak thought about it for a second, but nodded his head in quiet approval for Even to continue. It could not hurt to hear his thoughts on it.

“The way I see it, time is no man’s friend. That is pretty much a given,” Even eventually said to Isak. “But as long as you have it and are able to use it, there is always room for correcting the mistakes you made or at least trying to. And, if that person is as special as you say they are, then they will sooner or later recognize your efforts, as long as you make them.”

While Isak was busy contemplating what the other had said, Even brought one of his hands in front of Isak’s face, a can dangling from its grip on the item. Isak blinked in surprise at it, automatically taking a hold of its lower part just before Even released his hold on it completely.  

“What’s this?” Isak stared at the canned beverage, turning it around in his hand.

“Coffee from the vending machine.” Even stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking down at Isak a little longer before turning half to the side, presumably ready to head down the corridor. “I think you could use it more than me. Which also reminds me,” he seemed to have remembered something important and turned fully back towards Isak. “What do you think about meeting up with me before or after our rehearsals for a little one on one for half an hour, one hour tops? You mentioned you have some trouble with the position of your arms sometimes and lifts in particular. I could give you a few pointers, show you some tricks that might help you, if you’d like.”

 _Excuse me?_  Isak did a double take and immediately thought he must look like a big fool right then and there due to the way he was behaving.  _Shit, I’m this close to turning into Magnus in front of this guy._  But  _hold on_ , did Even just offer to help him with ballet by proposing to have an additional practice of their own?

“Yes.” The words could not have left his mouth faster, Isak was sure of it. “Are you serious? That would be absolutely fantastic. I mean, I already have something before our rehearsal, so I guess afterwards, if that’s not a problem for you?”

“It’s a deal.” Even winked,  _actually fucking winked_ , and turned to walk down the hallway before the colour could fully rise to Isak’s cheeks, which he was awfully thankful for. “See you Friday, Isak.”

Isak observed his strides across the polished vinyl floor only for a moment before taking a second glance at the can of cooled coffee still in his hand. He allowed himself a small, infatuated smile.  _Just for him._ Nobody needed to know.

“Thanks,” he shouted after Even’s retreating back, a playful but mostly grateful quirk to his lips by the time the older boy turned around to look at him. “And, just for the record, I prefer chocolate milk.”

The way Even’s cheeks dimpled, when he smiled was nothing less than breath-taking.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

*

“How was your day, sweet summer child of mine?”

That day, Isak came home to an apartment smelling of some sort of exotic spices and Eskild running around their small kitchen in an apron covered with various stains. He had so many questions, particularly because Eskild  _never_  cooked.

“What’s going on?” Isak asked as he dubiously eyed the state of the room, dirty pots and pans staked on one side and something appearing to be burning on the stove on the other, if the smell was anything to go by. “And should I be getting the fire extinguisher?”

“Funny,” Eskild remarked as he peered at him over his shoulder while attempting to stir the contents of the cooking dish. Isak would definitely think twice before trying whatever his crazy roommate had concocted. “I’m having someone over for dinner, I hope you don’t mind.”

 _That was a first._  Eskild had never brought anyone over to their shared apartment before, but then again, neither had Isak or their other roommate. To Isak, bringing someone over to where you lived, your home and sanctuary, meant giving that person access to something very personal of yours, and Isak did not do personal.  _Not since Chris._

Isak made sure his ‘escapades’, if you could call them that, remained outside of the apartment, his room and, most importantly, his bed.

“It’s not my room that your room shares a thin wall with. What did William say to all of this?”

Whereas Eskild was the loud, obnoxious roommate with no sense for personal space and a weird maternal instinct towards Isak, William was the quiet, brooding handsome one, who was secretly a closeted poet and a really decent guy. And then, there was Isak.

All in all, _they were quite a sight to behold._ But somehow they made it work.

“Oh, he immediately packed a bag and went to crash at a friend’s place,” was Eskild’s nonchalant response, to which Isak only snorted in amusement.

“Figures.”

Just as he was about to remove himself from the doorway to the kitchen, he heard Eskild’s gentle voice, a voice that spoke of parental concern. Isak found it annoying and endearing at the same time.

“You are okay though?”

Isak thought about it. For once, he was absolutely sure he did not need to pretend with an answer.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said and departed to his room, leaving Eskild to deal with his cooking.

By the time he got ready for bed and crawled underneath his covers, he was able to fully comprehend the extent of his exhaustion, so instead of watching a film, Isak decided to look up some 80’s music playlists on his laptop to see what the fuss was all about. Needless to say, less than an hour later he fell asleep to  _Eurythmics’s_   _Sweet Dreams_  and the verses  _“some of them want to use you, some of them want to get used by you”_.

What a coincidence.

 

*

“I don’t get it,” Isak complained, throwing his arms in the air for extra emphasis and flailing with them in large strokes. “Why is it so important how you hold these bloody things? An inch higher or an inch lower, upward or downward. It essentially doesn’t matter.”

They were going at it for almost half an hour, minus the minutes the two of them needed to switch to another room after their group’s rehearsal that Friday afternoon, and Isak was starting to grow restless, mainly because they had been going through several position with the sole purpose of trying to work on the stance of his arms, sometimes even hands, which he obviously could not get the hang of. It was  _absolutely_   _frustrating_.

That did not seem to derail Even, who merely laughed at Isak’s rants, observing him with his hands on his hips from where he stood a few feet away.

“It actually does. It’s the finer details that make all the difference.”

“It _literally_ doesn’t,” argued Isak as he wiped a hand over the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Albeit he appeared annoyed, he was more than slightly amused, because Even kept beaming throughout the whole ordeal with smiles that spoke not of mockery or contempt, but of pleasure, comfort even. It was surprisingly contagious. “And screw the finer details.”

“How about we move onto the lifts then?” Even suggested, raising an eyebrow at the other boy. Isak was more than grateful for the proposition, which he made clear with a guttural groan of relief.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, and just to make things clear, it’s not that you don’t know how to lift. The problem is that you’re going to be lifting Emma,” Even commented as he stepped closer to Isak until he stood directly in front of him. Isak vaguely noted that he had to look a little higher in order to meet his eyes, which for an undefinable reason made a small shiver run through his body.

Apparently, there was something about tall guys that made Isak all the more susceptible to them.

“Are there special precautions to be taken, when lifting her?” Isak fixed the other boy with a disbelieving look, scrunching up his nose in the process. It took Even a second to register what Isak had said, bursting into a full out laugh right after, with his mouth wide open and eyes crinkling at the corners.

“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that,” he clarified, when the laughter subsided. “Emma is practically the same height as you, which means she can’t weigh that much less, hence proving to be a problem for you, when trying to lift her. She may look like she’s light as a feather, but don’t let that fool you.”

The general opinion of ballet dancers being easier to lift, because they were primarily on the skinnier side, was in reality not all true. Of course, dancers and especially female dancers were expected to take care of their weight, keeping it at the lowest digits still normal for their body type, but they could not afford to starve themselves. They needed the energy and they needed the strength. But above all, they needed the muscles more than they needed that extra loss of weight.

Although they appeared extremely thin to the outside world, they were actually full of muscle, which was not really that easy to lift sometimes.

“Dude, one word of that to her and you’ll be done for. _Finished_ ,” Isak dared to tease, because both of them knew girls were still sensitive, when it came to their weight. _Ballet dancers or not._

“Which is why this will remain a secret between you and me, right?” Even cocked his head sideways, looking at him with intent while a hint of amusement tinted his expression. When Isak smiled conspiratorially and nodded, he simply returned the gesture and moved to Isak’s left.

“Stand so that your hips face the wall of mirrors on one side.” Isak did as he was told without questioning as to why he had to do so. He trusted Even to know what he was doing, because he had that much more experience than Isak. _Talent too_ , probably.

“In classes you’re always pared up with partners that more or less compliment your height, now you’ll just have to work with what you got. _This is how it works in real life_. You either own it or not.” Isak gave the other a doubtful look that said much more than he thought it did, since Even shook his head almost immediately to reassure him otherwise.

“Don’t worry, Emma knows what to do to make it easier for you, but it won’t do any harm to know what you can do to ensure you don’t accidentally drop her or lose your balance. This way you don’t need to simply rely on her.”

“What about Sonja?” Isak inquired, remembering their other female dance partner.

“You don’t really need to worry about her. Sonja is quite shorter than you, so you shouldn’t have that much trouble with lifting her, but either way, you’ll have the same tricks at your disposal.”

 _Okay, simple enough._  Isak could definitely work with that. Especially, if Even assured him he could. It seemed that Even was good at coaching someone through a workout. He was calm and reassuring, not pressing, but above all, he knew _exactly_ what he was talking about. His words gave Isak much more confidence than he thought they could, considering they came from someone barely two years older than him.

“Now, do an  _arabesque_  and hold the position.” Isak followed the instructions, raising himself to the tips of his toes on his supportive leg with the working leg turned out and extended behind his body, both legs held straight.

“We should start with the  _fish dive_  lift, which means you’ll have to go into a  _poisson_ ,” Even said as he disappeared from Isak’s view entirely.

For a fleeting moment, Isak wondered where he had gone to, when he felt one of the other boy’s hands grab at the ankle of his extended leg. He put light pressure on it to indicate to Isak that he had to bring the leg closer in, bend and curve it more behind himself. “I’m going to need you to extend this leg outward as soon as I’ll lift you and you’ll bring the other one in to bend at the knee, okay?”

It was precisely then, _in that exact instant_ , that Isak became aware of what they were doing, of what they were about to do, and he froze immediately.  _Shit. Shit. Freaking shit._

Even proceeded to place his other hand at his hip on the side of Isak’s supportive leg, his palm creating a welcoming pressure on his skin, the warmth of it sipping through the thin material of his dance attire, so Isak could not do much more than nod his head while trying to swallow the lump that got lodged in his throat. It was a good thing Even could not see him, because he was probably wearing an unbearably strained look on his face.  _What was he thinking agreeing to this?_ He should have known this was going to be a part of their practice session.

“Now, instead of holding the leg here,” Even went on like there was not suddenly an additional tension to the room, like he was not just touching Isak in what could be considered intimate,  _in what Isak considered intimate_ , his other hand curving around his working leg, where it settled in one spot for a moment before he moved it a little higher up his thigh. “You are going to anchor your grip here.”

Ballet dancers of both genders were used to getting touched like this during partnering without feeling anything remotely sexual. That was normal. The older you got and the more experience you had, you realized there was nothing to feel embarrassed about, nothing to make you assume that any of it could be more than dancing.  _Most of the time_. There were exceptions, especially when you were attracted to your dancing partner, and that was the worst.  _This was one of those exceptions_.

Isak felt goose bumps rise to his skin in an approximation of a tidal wave, heat starting to build in the pit of his stomach. He knew it was not a coincidence.

Even had managed to advance closer to his backside accordingly, which meant that Isak was more conscious of Even’s proximity than ever before. _His warmth, his skin_. The simple idea of Even’s body being this close to his. Something made Isak believe that the other’s movements seemed to have slowed down, soft touches that lingered before progressing, but maybe that was just his imagination. Maybe it all just appeared so unhurried and tender to his sluggish mind that would turn to mush soon enough.

 _Or maybe not_. Because, the next thing Isak knew, Even had pressed himself up against his back very deliberately, with the other’s chest at his shoulder blades, abdomen at his lower back. A solid reminder of the attractive dancer touching him, _feeling him_ in places he should not be feeling him. Isak was certain he had stopped breathing altogether the second he felt Even dig his fingers that were still splayed on his hip into his flesh, just briefly enough for him to recognize the touch.  _The desperation in it._

“And then, you’ll have to secure your other arm around her middle exactly like this,” Even uttered, his voice rough and reduced to almost a whisper against Isak’s ear, where the other’s breath was currently gently grazing the side of Isak’s nape. _Right there_. Even’s palm, fingers now spread out and pressed flat against his skin, was venturing across his lower belly until he had almost curled his entire arm around Isak’s midsection, unbelievably hot and burning an imprint into Isak’s flesh. “Do you feel it?”

 _He did._  Sucking in a shaky breath, he was careful not to let out a sound that would surely betray him _. He was definitely feeling it_. Isak allowed himself to close his eyes in order to revel in the sensation of the other’s touch, his body unable to stop the involuntary shudders it underwent, and he was afraid Even would soon notice his physical reactions. It was not until he was hit with that familiar arousal full force, fierce and severe like a blow to the abdomen, that he broke out of his trance, tearing himself away from the other boy so quickly that he stumbled forward before catching himself, and instantly began to cross the floor in huge strides. _Fuck._

“Isak?” He heard Even’s confused voice, tinted with just the tiny bit of concern, but Isak could not bring himself to spare him even one look. _Not even a single glance in his direction._ “Isak, wait!”

“I completely forgot that I have this other thing I need to be at,” he managed to blurt out, verbalizing the first thing that popped into his mind while desperately trying to keep his nerves under control. He grabbed his bag and towel on his way to the exit as fast as he could. “I’m sorry, I’m _really sorry_.”

Breaking through the door, Isak sprinted to the closest changing room. Once inside, he took shelter in the bathroom and locked himself in the first toilet stall he was able to reach, leaning against the door with his entire weight while closing his eyes and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyelids.

 _Stupid. You’re so stupid._  Isak was beginning to panic and he had to will himself to calm down.

_This is Chris all over again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simple Minds – Don’t You (Forget About Me) (1985)  
> Eurythmics – Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) (1983)


	3. First Kisses are Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I’m sorry it took longer for me to upload a new chapter but I had a lot of other stuff going on and this chapter had been a tough cookie to write, ugh. I wanted to do it right, get all the necessary emotions as I wanted to, etc. 
> 
> I hope it paid off and that you’ll enjoy it. ^^ 
> 
> Thank you again for all of your lovely comments on the previous chapter! <333
> 
> Remember to COMMENT and WRITE YOUR HEARTS OUT YET AGAIN! :) 
> 
> I truly enjoy READING LONG, ELABORATE, COMMUNICATIVE COMMENTS, they keep me focused and going, which means that just like you are anticipating another chapter, I am anticipating your comments! I want to hear all of it! ^^
> 
> P.S. Just a reminder that no matter how long it takes me to upload a new chapter, I am not quitting this story and fully intend on bringing it to an end (as long as there will be enough comments for inspiration, hehe), so do not worry. ;)

*

_Isak met Chris the same day his mother blamed him for his father abandoning them for the first time._

_Although she apologized immediately after and promised him she did not mean it, Isak could not prevent the words that had been thrown at his face from burning themselves into the back of his mind. It really hurt. And it hurt even more the second time around, a mere three months after the first, when she failed to take it back._

_That day, Isak asked Jonas to drag him to a party that he could not care less about, where there were people, who he was not even remotely familiar with, in an attempt to “let loose for a change”, as he had phrased it, and get wasted. While on his third drink of the night, he spotted ‘the boy’ across the room, watching Isak with smouldering eyes and a shameless smirk that spoke of countless conquests. To this day, Isak has no idea why Chris had taken such an interest in him then, but people continuously told him that he had this innocent look to him that just begged to be tainted, so he guessed that could have been it._

_By the time the other had sauntered over to him and offered to smoke a blunt together, Isak had known he would not be able to refuse him. Chris was charismatic, confident and had a way with words, to the extent of knowing what to say to make you weak in the knees. He was also incredibly attractive for a bad boy type of a guy, and he knew it._

_He knew exactly what he was doing, leaning in close to Isak as he lighted the joint, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear and looking at him like no one else had looked at him before, so Isak had let him. He had let Chris press him against a wall outside the house and give him his first real kiss. It was rushed and sloppy, with a tinge of desperation in it, but mostly a lot of tongue._

_It was not how Isak had thought it would be, though in the end it did not matter, because the butterflies had already settled deep within his gut, fluttering their wings against his inner walls. It was exhilarating, but then again, that is how it always is before a fall._

_A fall Isak had completely failed to see coming._

 

*

“So, how are rehearsals going?” Magnus asked after having finished complaining about one of his professors, who insisted that the boy was _‘a natural menace while dancing’_ , because he was apparently all over the place. Honestly, that did not surprise Isak in the slightest.

It was a particularly lazy Monday, when Isak and his closest friends found themselves lounging on the large steps outside the  _National Academy of the Arts_. They managed to meet on a break between classes, their schedules for the day overlapping otherwise, especially since Mahdi started his  _Motion Graphics 2_  course, which was  _‘already a pain in the ass’_ , as he had mentioned.

“Good, I guess. More fun than I had expected it to be,” said Jonas before draining the last of his Chai Latte, which Isak thought was a presumptuous drink in itself while Jonas insisted that Isak had bad taste. _End of discussion_. “It’s just me and five other guys, so we fool around a lot and make fun of our respective characters. Last week though, one of them brought a spliff and we smoked it amongst ourselves in the changing room before practice.”

“For real?” Mahdi grinned at the other boy in delighted bewilderment, Jonas following the other’s reaction with a chuckle of his own as he recalled the particular incident vividly in his mind.

“You have no idea what kind of dance moves we tried busting after that.”

While in their respectful stages of amused astonishment, with laughter at the tips of their tongues, Isak took a moment to study the three of them, thinking briefly about how fortunate he was to have these idiots around him on a daily basis, these foolish goofballs that grounded him, when he was wound-up tight from the pressure of oncoming adulthood. Jonas was one thing, because they have been in each other’s lives since Isak could remember, but the other two, who had somehow ventured into their group by accident, he never could have predicted would become such trustworthy and important people to him. And  _vice versa_ , Isak hoped.

“What about you, Isak? How are the lovely ladies treating you?” Isak startled at the sudden question direct at him, but the look on Magnus’s face, when he focused on him, the suggestive tinge reflected in his eyes that he tried to suppress in vain, left Isak without a doubt about his friend’s ulterior motives for the inquiry. However, before he could even as much as roll his eyes at the  _dimwit_ , someone else beat him to it.

“Really, Magnus?” The unimpressed tone of Mahdi’s voice implied the unbelievable ridiculousness of the question which, in all honesty, they should have seen coming. Magnus dared to look oblivious, when Mahdi confronted him with a ‘ _we know what you’re trying to do’_  expression written all over his face.

“You are truly insufferable, man.” Jonas rubbed at his forehead, an implication of just how embarrassed he was for him, but the smile that came with it spoke of an undertone of endearment he had for the guy. Magnus was an idiot yet he was  _their idiot_.

“What’s wrong with what I’ve said?” Magnus sought out Isak’s gaze, his confusion so apparent that it almost made Isak sympathize with him.  _Almost._  Which means that he did not, simply sighing in exasperation instead.  _Key words are important._

“Magnus, I can see it in your  _freaking_ face that you’re expecting me to go on a detailed monologue about thrusting hips and bulging breasts, which is not going to happen, because let me explain it to you again,” Isak spoke as though he was trying to lecture a child, leaning forward and keeping eye contact with the blond-haired boy. “I am gay. I am  _super_  gay, dude, meaning that even thought I can appreciate a woman’s beauty it literally does nothing for me. Zero,  _nada_. I do not spend our group’s rehearsals ogling my female dance partners and drooling at the sight.”

“So, just Even then?”

After the initial shock, Isak took in the sight of his best friend, sprawled out comfortably next to him, casually inclined and leaning slightly backwards to rest one elbow on the step above, his face as neutral and stoic as ever, as he stared back at him.  _What. The. Actual. Fuck._

“Excuse me?”

He did his best to cover up the doubtful pitch, maintain the preposterous tone of his voice in an attempt to make the “justifiable” question sound convincing, but Isak should have known better than to think Jonas would not figure him out.  _He always did._  He gave him a knowing look, with a raise of an eyebrow, while the other two were merely observing the spectacle unfolding before them.

“Oh, come on. We’ve been friends for over half our lives. I know how you behave, when you have the hots for someone,” Jonas remarked with so much confidence, Isak could hardly say anything in his defence. Then again,  _not like he had anything good to say_. “And I’ve seen the way you look at the guy at our joint rehearsals on Wednesdays. I can only imagine how you stare at him during your group’s practices.”

Isak was not really that stunned, when Mahdi wolf-whistled as a response to Jonas’s claims while Magnus kept eerily quiet, however Isak could see him from the corner of his eye and saw that he was gawking with his mouth hanging open.  _Damage control,_  he told himself _. Immediate damage control._

“What are you even talking about?”

“You look at him like you’re starving and he’s the first meal you’ve seen in days,” Jonas continued, as though he did not intend on sparing Isak the humiliation at all, and shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly. “I mean _, I get it._ The guy is a real eye-candy.”

“What the fuck, Jonas?” Isak huffed indignantly, hearing Magnus’s shriek of  _‘Hah, I was right. He is a total hottie.’,_  but ignoring it in favour of watching Jonas’s cocky smile stretch itself across the other’s face.  _Unbelievable._

“What, Isak? Just because I’m straight as a  _barre_  doesn’t mean I can’t ‘ _appreciate a guy’s beauty’_ ,” he countered, Isak’s own argument serving as a perfect comeback for the boy that had become mute at a loss for words.  _So much for damage control._

“So, a detailed monologue about thrusting hips and _other types of bulges_ then?” Magnus asked after a moment of silence, a playfulness to his voice that made the other two break out in laughter that echoed in their surroundings. Isak got to his feet, embarrassed and red in the face, fleeing the scene in a matter of seconds, but not before announcing to the world that his friends  _‘are the worst’_  and  _‘suck big time’._

 

*

In reality, Jonas had no idea  _how bad_  Isak had it for Even.

After the incident, where he had stormed out of their private practice session, Isak feared things between him and Even would become somewhat awkward, an in-between state of uneasiness and courtesy, creating a tension that would eventually make it not only uncomfortable, but also difficult for them to work with each other.

It is safe to say that Isak was more than surprised, when Even did not even mention it, neither directly or in passing, but acted like he always did, like nothing had transpired between them that late afternoon in the seclusion of the dance studio.  _Like Isak had been the only one that had felt it._

The banter continued, albeit a little toned-down; the smiles remained, albeit a little less brilliant; and the  _simple, innocent_  touches did not go away, although they became less frequent, less prominent. And Isak did not know whether he should feel grateful for the normality or be disappointed because of it.

He caught himself staring at the gorgeous dancer on multiple occasions, though he tried to be subtle about it most of the time, while his eyes lingered on his form, travelling the expanse of his shoulders and broad back whenever it curved during dancing, observing the muscles in his legs when he was stretching, eyes fleeting far too often to be considered appropriate to meet dimples grace the corners of his mouth when he laughed.

Isak was apparently not even capable of containing himself during their group’s rehearsals while standing next to the handrail with Emma, in the process of practicing lifts with her, as Even and Sonja took the centre of the room for a partnered routine guided by their instructor.

“Whoa, easy there,” Emma squeaked, catching her balance as she landed on her feet, because Isak’s hands had lost their hold on her while he was lowering her to the ground. Because he  _yet again_  had to sneak a peek he should not have and got distracted.  _It was seriously messing with his concentration._

“Sorry, it seems I haven’t gotten the hang of it quite yet.” Isak was sheepishly looking down at his feet by the time Emma turned to face him, distressed due to the lack of grip he had on himself.

 _This is not okay._ It really is _not okay_.

“That’s okay,” Emma smiled amiably, not at all annoyed with Isak. “You’ve definitely improved. Been practicing, haven’t you?”

Images of him and Even in that particular dance studio popped into his mind, the two of them standing way too close with the other boy’s hands on him, the deep mellow timbre of his voice whispering reassuring words in his ear.  _Not a good idea._  Isak supressed the thoughts as quickly as they came and opted for a fairly neutral answer.

“Well,  _I do have to_  make a satisfying impression on my dance partner,” he smiled in what he hoped was a charming manner and leaned onto the barre for support. The casualty of his body language seemed to have worked since Emma joined him at the handrail, her smile just a tad brighter.

“Hey, watch out or I might just think you’re flirting with me.”

It took Isak a moment to register that he had heard her right, and _wow, what gave her that impression?_  For once, after all those times he had deemed it absolutely absurd, he was starting to consider the option that Magnus might be onto something, because it definitely looked like he was either at least an actual  _“babe magnet”_  or a natural flirt at most.  _He did not know which one was worse_.

“ _No_ , I would never―” he blurted without thinking and instantly cringed at his choice of words. _Smooth_ , Isak. What a way to make a girl feel bad about herself. _Really smooth_.

“Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, you’re a very attractive girl, but you’re―” he paused at that, deciding on the most appropriate reason to go for. “―simply not my type.”

 _Which could not be more true_. If Isak were into girls _in any way_ , Emma would have undoubtedly caught his eye by that point. She was naturally pretty, with silky skin and a dazzling smile, her pixie haircut only further accentuating the great bone structure of her face. She was quirky and sometimes too excited for her own good but adorable nonetheless.

“Is that so?” she asked rather forwardly after she had regarded him for a second, as if what he had said did not affect her at all. “And, what is your type, if I may ask?”

 _And, there we are again._  Isak did not particularly like getting himself involved into situations like this, where he had to  _literally_ spell out his sexuality to other people, who just did not know better.  _Ignorant or not._  It always resulted in a more or less unpleasant exchange for both parties involved. Isak studied her for a while longer, taking in her carefree appearance and bracing himself for the inevitable reaction.

“Male,” he declared and watched as her expression morphed into one of shock and flustered realization, eyes twice as big, and Isak immediately felt bad for her.

“Oh.  _Oh_ ,” she uttered reluctantly, looking at him as though she had seen something akin to a ghost. “I’m  _so_  sorry. Shit, that is so insensitive of me.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. Why would you? You didn’t know,  _couldn’t_  have known.” Isak quickly reassured her, because this was the part he hated the most. People acting as though he had told them he had  _a terminal condition_  and they were sorry, sorry.  _Sorry._  Everybody had to stop being sorry all the time. “Seriously, don’t stress about it, Emma.”

The voice of their instructor brought Isak’s attention back to the dancing pair in the middle of the room that was receiving the directive to  _“go just a little lower, Sonja you need to be able to graze the ground with the back of your hand”_. He observed Even’s form that was bending forward, one hand anchored across Sonja’s waist from behind, the other between her shoulder blades, as the girl arched her back with her hand extended towards the floor. But what caught his eye even more was the way the two dancers held themselves in another manner entirely, the way Sonja appeared so placid,  _so content_  in her partner’s arms, the way Even’s nose was barely yet naturally grazing along the length of the girl’s neck.

“They are magnificent together, aren’t they?” he heard Emma say and found her admiring the couple with a similar attitude, a wistful expression on her face. “The unwavering confidence, the natural poise. The coordination  _on point_. They’ve been together for a long time,  _long enough_  to establish that kind of trust for each other.”

“You think that  _all of that_  comes down to trust?”

“Absolutely.” There was a specific look of pride and hope, of future promises for such trust in her features that made Isak’s heart clench. “It takes a lot of courage to surrender yourself to someone like that, a certain risk to giving yourself away into the arms of another person and believing they will carry you safely and hold you unconditionally, in life as in dance. That’s why trusting your dance partner is of the utmost essence.”

Isak dared to take one last glance at the  _two lovers_ , dancing their way across the floor, and knew.  _He just knew._

“Yeah, I guess so.”

_It was a knowledge he regretted to have gained._

 

*

_Apart from his first real kiss, Chris had managed to take a lot of Isak’s firsts, including his first sexual encounter and his first time falling in love, his first time of plunging into love’s gripping waters and falling for a person that made him skip classes and cry himself to sleep, because he felt unloved._

_The thing was, Chris may have been a charmer and knew how to make Isak laugh, he was great to hang out with and was always able to make Isak forgive him for his indiscretions, make him fall even more in love with him. But Chris did not do relationships, because that was not his thing and he did not feel comfortable with it. He was not that kind of guy and he told Isak as much, so Isak said he was okay with it, even if he was not. He was not okay with them meeting only in the light of carnal desires or boring Sundays instead of spending quality time like a real couple, he was not okay with them not being exclusive and Chris hooking up with other people because he could not manage a monogamous relationship. Still he endured it, because Chris kept insisting that he was special to him, that he was the only one he kept coming back to. Isak revelled in that knowledge, holding it dear, because he believed there was truth in it. There had to be._

_Isak was fortunate enough to save one of his firsts, in hopes of giving it to Chris when the time would be right, though before that could happen Isak found out how “truly special” he was on the day he bumped into Chris on the street, holding hands with a petite brunette, who he introduced to Isak as his girlfriend without even an ounce of shame. Isak’s world shattered to pieces in a matter of seconds._

_According to what Chris had said, when Isak confronted him sometime after that, he had indeed been special. Special enough to be the only guy amongst all the girls Chris had cheated on his girlfriend with. Isak felt sick to the stomach, repelled by the sight of the boy he used to adore, yet did not have the heart to tell the poor girl about him, so he just left it at that, ignoring Chris’s calls and advances until the other grew tired. It did not take long for that to happen._

_Unfortunately, Chris succeeded in taking one more of his firsts, since Isak was just not able to protect himself from his first heartbreak either._

 

*

Isak was aware his infatuation with Even needed to end, because that is  _exactly_  what it was.

 _An infatuation._   _And nothing good would come of it._

He could swear it was beginning to play tricks on his mind after he assumed to have caught Even’s stare while they were watching a recording of one of the recent renditions of  _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_  at their joint rehearsal on Wednesday with their instructors and professor Almaas, who was pausing the video footage to point out distinct moves and transitions to them. Isak kept stealing looks, when he was sure no one would notice, observing the male individual that sat with his girlfriend curled up next to him, his hand toying with the girl’s short hair. The lights had been dimmed beforehand, so it was hard not to think his eyes were deceiving him, thinking that for a split second he glimpsed Even looking right back at him. However, when he did a double-take, it was gone. Like  _a figment of his imagination_. Unattainable and unreal.

At the end of the day, he was still hopelessly pining after a boy he dared to admire from afar, sneak glances in his direction to memorize the contours of his face and fantasize about him as he stroked himself to completion one too many times. He was embarrassed for it, embarrassed for fantasizing about someone, who had a girlfriend and was probably as straight as they come.  _He probably was,_  which was extra devastating. It meant Even  _could never_ , in any form or alternative reality, feel the same way about him.

Time and again,  _Rick Springfield’s_   _Jessie’s Girl_  spun like a broken record in his head, over and over again until the lyrics became altered and all he could hear was  _“Sonja’s got herself a boy and I want to make him mine_ ”. Still, he could not bring himself to resent the girl. They were the picture perfect couple,  _they really were_ , and he would never be able to compete with Sonja or the history the two of them shared, even if he tried, Isak realized as much.

As he and Jonas were making their way out of the auditorium that day, he was so out of it he barely recognized the touch that came to rest upon his upper arm, stalling him in his movements.  _“You’re coming on Friday, right?”_  Emma had asked them, looking from one of them to the other in expectation. “ _I’m having a party at my house, since my parents are gone for the weekend, and the entire cast is invited to come. I think we deserve a night of fun for all the work we put into this.”_  She was all smiles and sparkly eyes.

 _“Of course, we’ll be there,”_  had been Jonas’s prompt and more than enthusiastic reply. Isak could not deny his friend’s eagerness, or Emma’s for that matter, so despite hesitating at first he nodded in affirmation in the end, because  _how bad could it actually be, right?_

 

*

_It was even worse than he could have predicted._

By the time the two of them arrived at the social gathering, the house was bustling with young people splayed out on and against various surfaces within the house, some more, others less intoxicated, and it was  _brutally stifling_. Emma discovered the two newcomers in a flash, oddly enough enveloping both in a hug before accumulating a bottle of beer for each.

As luck would have it, it also did not take long for Isak to spot Even, as handsome as ever, in a dark T-shirt under a light denim jacket, hovering in a corner of the house and shaking his head at something an unfamiliar person had said while Sonja took to nuzzling her face into his shoulder, her arms securely wrapped around his middle.

Isak could not stop himself from watching them, the way they fit together, the intimate contact they shared and all he could hear was  _Jessie’s Girl_  and how  _“he's watching her with those eyes, and he's loving her with that body, I just know it, and she's holding him in her arms late, late at night”_ , so Isak averted his eyes and downed half the bottle in an instant before he could go insane.

An hour later, Isak sat perched upon a window sill  _all alone_ , because Jonas had disappeared in the pursuit of a girl, who garnered his attention in the first 15 minutes they were there. He was more than slightly inebriated and well into his fifth bottle of the night, minus the shot of vodka he was offered in-between, keeping tabs on a boy, who kept looking his way from across the room several times for at least half an hour.

Isak was just about to take another swing of his drink, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Don’t you think you should take it easy on the alcohol?” He blinked up at Even, who appeared in his mildly blurred vision. The sad part was that  _said alcohol_  did  _nothing_  for the effect the alluring dancer had on him.  _He was so fucked._

Isak did not bother with a response and took a sip from his bottle regardlessly.

“So,” Even began, obviously a lot less drunk than Isak himself, as he took a seat on the window sill next to him. “Not having much fun, I presume.”

“What?” He exclaimed heatedly, finally facing the boy to his left. Isak did not know why, but he did not want to give the other the satisfaction of knowing he was actually having a  _significantly shitty time_.

“I’m having fun. In fact, I’m having a  _total blast_ , Even. I have everything I could possibly want. There’s booze, nobody’s trying to chat me up with  _petty small talk_ , and that guy over there,” Isak announced, hoping he was pointing in the right direction due to a considerable deterioration of his motor skills. “He has been sending me some pretty heavy signals.  _All. Night. Long_.”

He smacked his lips and tried to focus on the guy, who he could barely make out anymore, not even sparing a glance at the boy sitting beside him. Partly because his vision was fuzzy enough to make him unable to fixate his gaze but mostly because  _the boy, the tall and lean dancer himself, made his heart skip a beat every time he looked at him._  And, Isak hated it. Isak  _hated_ how the other made him feel like a fool.  _Just like Chris._

“You know what? I think I might just take him up on an offer for some  _sexy times_.”

Isak moved swiftly, without taking the time to consider the state he was in, straightening his back and trying to hop of the ledge only to lose his footing on a piece of clothing that got caught in his shoe, nearly sending him flying onto the floor, were it not for a hand that grabbed his forearm in a vicious almost painful grip.  _Oh God, why do I have the feeling I just got off a really bad roller coaster?_  He noticed a little too late that he had said that out loud as well.

“Okay, let’s get you some fresh air,” was all Isak heard before he was being hauled out of the room by an arm around his waist to keep him upward and he did not register leaving the crowded house until the two of them were already in the backyard, the loud music and screechy voices dying down to a dull bass sound in the stillness of the night.

“ _No_ , what are we doing outside? The party’s in there.” Isak whined, and he would have slapped himself for sounding so childish, if he were sober enough. Even ignored him either way as he guided him to an exterior wall so that Isak could lean against it for support, even though Isak was certain he would be able to stand on his own two feet  _perfectly fine, thank you very much_.

“Just a few minutes. Trust me, it’s going to do you good,” Even sighed, a weariness to him as he ran a hand through his hair, and Isak became aware of the other purposefully avoiding to look at him. “And then you can go back and,  _I don’t know_ , screw that guy’s brains out, if you want to,  _jeez_.”

You see, although Isak ‘ _might have been’_  heavily under the influence of the alcohol in his system, even he was able to distinguish a change in the other’s behaviour, an odd frustration in the other’s voice. Right then and there, he seemed  _a distance away_.

“I don’t want to do that.” Cutting through the calm of the night, Isak shook his head inattentively and pursed his lips in disdain at the thought.  _I really don’t_ , he thought, contemplating as to why he had suggested anything remotely close to that in the first place. “I’m not going to do anything with that guy. He’s not even my type.”

 _Not my type._ The exact same words he had passed onto Emma only days prior, words that were true in both instances, but for different reasons entirely, because  _he was not_.  _He never could be his type._

“What is your type then?”

Isak shifted his gaze to Even, waiting for his view to sharpen in on the other’s features that were illuminated by the pale light of the moon.  _Softer, more delicate._  All that remained was this boy, this ultimately beautiful boy, who was finally looking at him again, quiet and patient.  _Ethereal._

“Tall.” A clear head would have definitely helped in this situation, and Isak would not have been bold enough to say it, not confident enough to let it slip, because he was normally nothing like that.

He could have stopped there and it would have been fine. But,  _he did not_. Maybe because Even chuckled humourlessly, on the verge of disbelieving, and looked up at the sky,  _looked away from him_ , even though they were this close to one another, side by side against the wall of someone else’s house. Or maybe because Isak was shitfaced and did not care.  _Either way._

“With large hands and a cheeky smile,” he threaded languidly, one word at a time, without taking his eyes of the other, who had veered his focus back to him again. Something about his expression was different, Isak was certain of it.  _And he wanted to drown in it._

“Preferably with a lot of beauty marks and a good taste in music, and also,” Isak moved away from the safety of the wall and stepped closer to Even, rising to the tips of his toes to get a better look, but his balance was clearly out of order, so instead he swayed forward and into the other, who braced his impact by catching him with hands on his hips. Hands that dug into the material of his clothes hard enough for Isak to feel them press forcefully into his skin underneath.

He squinted at Even from an intimate proximity, concentrating particularly hard before chuckling somewhat sluggishly and practically sagging against the boy that held him in his arms. “And also  _really long_  eyelashes.”

“Isak,” Even breathed into the space separating them, an uncertainty in the depths of his eyes that Isak did not know how to categorize.

“Soft lips, too. Might I say, you have awfully appealing lips,  _like_ the kind that make a person want to kiss you,” Isak mumbled distractedly. “ _Like_ , all the time.”

Even was  _so close_ , his lips  _right there_ , and all Isak could think about was how easily he could  _just_   _take_.  _Take and take_  before his brain could tell him not to, before his lungs could explode from the intense pressure in his chest, before his unsettling stomach could make him reveal all of his emotions and word vomit. Or,  _you know_ , only vomit.

Isak pushed himself away from Even and bent over just in time, heaving whatever his stomach decided he needed to get rid of onto the grass below. And  _fucking hell,_ he needed to get rid of a lot by the looks of it. The rancid taste in his mouth made him even sicker, so he puked some more. His eyes watered and, as he blinked through the tears, he saw that he had managed to get some all over one of Even’s shoes.  _Oh God, this is beyond horrible_ , Isak realized in horror.  _He would never be able to live this down._

And then, as Isak’s mind reached the verge of utter despair, a comforting hand settled low on his back while he was still hunched forward, another combing his hair back from his forehead.

“It’s okay,” Even’s soothing voice told him and Isak believed him.  _He believed him_. “I got you.”

He picked up the sound of the door opening, bringing forth the ruckus from the inside and a female voice, which Isak guessed was Sonja’s, calling out for Even. He threw up what he believed, or at least hoped, to be the final time before he heard her ask whether he was all right.

“I think he’s done for the night. I’m going to bring him to our place, since it is close enough. He needs to sober up,” Even informed her while helping Isak stand up straight, hands still on him. “See if you can find Jonas, the guy with extremely shaggy eyebrows. Make sure he knows about his friend.”

 

*

 _They say there is a first time for everything._  Even for throwing up over your crush’s footwear after pretty much blatantly confessing how you feel about them.

On the way to Sonja and Even’s flat, which they shared with two other people, Isak managed to throw up two more times and get some much deserved air that helped clear his mind, so by the time the two of them reached the apartment, Isak was only plagued by a minor headache, a slightly irritated stomach and  _a whole lot_  of mortification. The only good thing was that he was able to find someone’s mouthwash in the bathroom to get rid of that distinctively gross feeling in his mouth, hoping no one would notice or mind that he used it.

Isak had been on the floor at the foot of a bed for a good quarter of an hour, his knees drawn close to his chest so he could cradle his head against them, additionally shielding himself with his arms wrapped around his legs, when Even’s subdued voice announced the other’s presence in the room.

“Here you go.”

He looked up at the boy, who stood in front of him with an offering of a tall glass of water in his hand. Isak took it, albeit gingerly, getting used to its weight while Even made himself comfortable on the floor at his side, leaning against the frame of the bed without saying another word. Isak assessed his options, _the damage that had been done_ , ashamed to even open his mouth, no matter what would come out of it, but he knew he had to start with something, if he wished to salvage anything.

“Thank you,” he finally brought out after taking a sip of the water and setting the glass down, his voice small and timid. “For the water, and also for kind of taking care of me and making sure I was okay. You didn’t have to do all of that.”

“What kind of dance partner would I be, if I didn’t?” Isak could not see him, because he refused to, because he was so ashamed of what he’d done, _what he’d said_ , and since Even’s tone appeared to lack any judgement or pique, was light and cool, Isak felt even more terrible for his actions.

“ _Oh my God_ , this is so humiliating,” he groaned, screwing up his eyes and scrubbing his hands over his face in quick succession.

“It happens to the best of us,” Even commented casually while Isak was still hiding behind the palms of his hands. “You think you’re the first person I got to see throw up?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s humiliating all the same,” he muttered as he removed his hands on a lengthy sigh. “I’m sorry for your sneakers.”

“They’re shoes, Isak. It’s not like I’m an  _uptown girl_  and those were Jimmy Choo’s. I’ll just chuck them into the washing machine, no big deal.”

Isak debated on whether or not he should say what he intended on saying next, should he take a chance at trying to fix what he had destroyed or hope they would go on pretending it did not happen without mentioning it. Instead of deciding at once, he focused on the wall opposite from him, scattered with photographs and various cut-outs, creating a collage or memories, hopes and aspirations, and Isak wondered if the room was Even’s or if he shared it with Sonja, realizing that _in the end_ he did not want to know the answer to that.

He could not leave things as they were.  _He had to take the chance._

“Another thing,” his voice quivered as he spoke, so Isak wet his lips in an absurd attempt to steady it, all the while still unable to look at the other boy, who was  _again_ sitting  _so_   _close_  to him that Isak was able to acknowledge his body heat.

“About what I’ve said, you know,  _before that_ ,” he took a large intake of breath and  _just_  went for it. “Could we forget that ever happened?”

Nothing,  _absolutely nothing_ , prepared Isak for what came out of Even’s mouth next.

“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.” No. _No, this was not how it was supposed to go._ Even was supposed to say “ _yes”_  and tell him that  _“we can do that, we can pretend it never happened”_ , not this.  _Not like this_.

“Even,  _please_ ,” Isak rubbed at his eyes, an anxiety to his action that was unfamiliar to him. The panic was building up to a crescendo, squeezing his airways as he tried to plead with everything he had. “Please don’t make this even worse than it already is. I really don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

It was painfully quiet, and all Isak could hear was his loud breathing as he tried to keep calm by holding onto the last shreds of hope, a situation in which Even would laugh and inform him that he was only joking, but he did not.  _It did not come_. There was only dead silence and eventually,  _eventually_  Even’s voice that broke it. 

“Isak, it’s not that I can’t forget about it,” He sounded unsure, speaking all the more slowly as though he was afraid of saying it out loud. “I don’t think  _I want to_.”

 _I don’t think I want to_. Well, it was certainly not what Isak had expected to hear.  _I don’t think I want to_.  _What does that even mean?_

Although Isak had no idea what precisely the other was trying to say, his words made him shift his eyes to Even anyway. He was mirroring Isak’s position on the floor, his arms hanging over the knees he had bent, appearing  _smaller_  than he actually was.  _It did not feel right seeing him like that._

“I thought it was me.” Even was playing with his fingers rather absentmindedly, his face carrying a mix of emotions, but one stood out to Isak, because he knew it all too well.  _Insecurity._  “I thought I was the one, that somehow my mind had fabricated it, and I  _felt ridiculous_  for thinking there was something there that made me want to be close to you, like an  _itch I couldn’t scratch_ , and I convinced myself that it was all in my head, that you did not share my predicament, so I decided to ignore it.”

Isak could hardly comprehend what he was hearing, whether he was hearing it correctly. It was all too surreal, too much like it had been taken out of a cliché teenage romance novel. For an unknown reason, it was  _simply terrifying_ , and yet Isak was curious enough to want to hear it, to hear  _all of it_.

“Then you go and more or less tell me that  _I am practically your type_  and that you’ve wanted to kiss me  _all along_ ,  _all this bloody time,_  when I thought I was going mad for wanting you, and―” He was rambling, speaking rapidly with a tinge of anger or annoyance, Isak could not quite discern, a whirlwind of sentiments.  _Unravelling_  himself.

When Even raised his sight to Isak, it was then that they made eye contact for the first time since their conversation began and it took Isak by surprise, because what he saw convinced him to have gained answers to  _the meaning of the world_ , hidden behind the other’s deep blue orbs. Even’s eyes might have been the most beautiful thing Isak had ever seen, and at that particular moment they were speaking to him _. Telling him something about oceans crossed and infinity breached._

“ _Shit_ , Isak. You can’t just say those things and expect me to forget all about it.” With words so gentle, Even’s hand reached out for him, the touch of fingers against his cheek resembling a spirit’s sigh, a faint caress that barely made contact with his skin, as though he was afraid Isak would disappear were he to actually make physical contact. “Not when all I’ve wished was to hear you say them.”

Isak was not sure he ever got air knocked out of his lungs so fast and forcefully,  _so ultimately_  before.

Somehow, their faces had drifted impossibly close together, Isak did not know  _when and how_  and he absolutely  _did not care_ , because soon enough they were mere inches apart, allowing their sultry breaths to blend into one another, the feeling making Isak’s hair stand on end in a very pleasurable manner, with an anticipation of what it could entail.  _This was actually happening._

Their noses grazed, accommodating to the way they curved around each other, but nothing beyond that happened, their mouths remaining divided.  _Why was he not kissing him?_

Isak blinked through squinted eyes, realizing that Even was waiting  _for him_ , waiting for  _his permission_ , so Isak nudged his nose against Even’s more persistently in an invitation for the boy to  _finally claim his lips_ , and Even immediately swooped in to press them against Isak’s without another thought, tender and incredibly soft, and suddenly everything made so much more sense.  _So much more it hurt._

 _It was nothing like his first kiss with Chris._  It was proper, a languid and lenient movement of lips against lips, both of them taking their time to savour it, pulling back to get some air and coming back together as if they were inseparable.

 _It was like he got to relive his first kiss all over again. And this time, it was perfect._ With just the two of them, secure in their own little world.  _Their own little bubble, where no one would be able to reach them._

However, that bubble soon burst with a rattling set of keys, a door slamming shut and the patter of feet against the floor in the hallway.  _Sonja,_ Isak thought immediately, becoming aware of the noise through the haze that the other’s lips created while slotted against his own. _The beautiful prima ballerina._

_Even’s girlfriend._

For the second time that night, Isak broke away from Even as though burned by his touch and buried his head into his knees, his heart beating like a timed bomb in his chest, waiting for the inevitable as he sensed Sonja appear at the room’s threshold. At first there was nothing except for some indistinct rustling and then dainty hands were cupping his cheeks, lifting his head from its hiding place so he could behold the face of the girl, who was smiling kindly back at him.

“Are you _better_? I found your friend and informed him of your condition, but you should still send him a message or something to let him know you’re okay.”

The sickness in his stomach returned with full force, when he became aware of what he had done. Sonja was a nice girl, always considerate of others and friendly, even when the situation did not call for it, and while she was busy making sure Jonas knew he was well, Isak made advances on her boyfriend, which ended in them kissing in the couple’s shared apartment.  _She did not deserve this._

“You’re still kind of pale. Maybe you should stay the night, we’ve got enough room,” she added with a slightly worried expression.  _No, he should not._   _He should get the hell out of there_. So that is precisely what Isak did.

He told Sonja that he appreciated the offer, but that he felt a lot better and had to go home, making up a story about his roommates, who needed to know he was safe and sound. Rising from his position on the floor, though a little shaky on his feet, he tried to gather all of his belongings as fast as possible, while attempting to avoid either looking at or speaking to Even.  _It went surprisingly well_ , because Even seemed to be altogether avoiding him too, since Sonja was the only one that was fussing over him until he left the apartment.

Once on the street outside, as the cold of the night enveloped him, he noticed that he was still able to distinguish the residue of Even’s taste on his lips.  _Fuck._

Isak took out his phone to send Jonas a short text message and came across another contact that had been bugging him for months on end, a contact that he kept coming back to with various thoughts and doubts on his mind, and  _for once_ , Isak did not think about it much, typing out a message before he could decide on a reason for not doing it.

_‘I know I haven’t contacted you in a while, but I wanted to tell you that I got a lead part in the End of Year Performance at the Oslo Opera House. I thought you should know. I hope you’re doing well.’_

He automatically signed it with ‘ _Love, Isak’_  but deleted it right after, sending the message without a parting phrase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick Springfield - Jessie’s Girl (1981)


	4. The Consequences of Yearning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooooou, guys! ^_^ I’m terribly sorry that it took so incredibly long for me to upload a new chapter (three and half weeks, if I’m right, phew). I had a lot of other stuff going on, as always, and this chapter had also been very demanding to write, oh boy. 
> 
> However, now the new chapter’s here and it’s the longest one yet, so at least I tried to make up for time I kept you guys waiting, ha-ha. I hope you’ll enjoy it! :)
> 
> SO MUCH has happened in the meantime. The season 4 trailer, which we have been so desperately waiting for, got released and Oh My Gosh, Sana is the season’s protagonist. Awesome! Plus, we found out our two boys had decided to move in together. #softboyfriends
> 
> I changed the rating after posting this chapter, since it may be a little more on the explicit side. I did it just to be sure, I don’t know. You tell me: do you think I should leave the rating Mature or change it to Explicit? Let me know. :)
> 
> Other than that, you know the drill: remember to COMMENT, if possible as LONG AND ELABORATE as you are willing to! :) It lets me know that you like what I am producing and that gives me confidence; it inspires me, keeps me focused and going, and gives me the drive to write more. ^_^
> 
> Thank you also for all of your lovely comments on the previous chapter! <333

*

_Every person is curious about their first memory at least once in their lifetime._

_It is fascinating how much difficulty the majority of people have with determining the earliest memory they have formed, be it a sound they can still hear ring out in their ears, but cannot pinpoint exactly, or a colour and shape they can connect to a certain object, but do not know why, often something that transpired only when all of their senses developed for them to take in the world around them in its entirety even though they cannot understand it._

_Isak has no proper recollection of a first memory. The memories that he has are all blurred into a fusion with his childhood photographs and the stories he had been told, so he can hardly tell, if something he remembers is actually his own memory or if his brain made it up with the help of external factors and convinced him into believing it is authentic._

_What Isak does think is authentic, is the first memory he has of his mother._

_A bunch of blurred snippets of his mother standing with her back to him while swaying to a melody, probably a popular song from the radio, in front of an ironing board, her ankle length skirt with a floral pattern moving with her from side to side. It is not his favourite memory of her, but definitely the first._

_His favourite memory of his mother comes with a photograph. Isak was six years old and his mother had just bought him his first ballet slippers after enrolling him into a pre-ballet class. When they came home that day, Isak immediately wanted to try the flats on and, while his mother was helping him with putting them on, his dad took a picture of them, catching the moment on camera._

_Moving out of his childhood home, Isak took the particular photo with him, a reminder of what it meant to him to be doing ballet, where he had come from and where he was headed, a source of strength and courage._

_Especially since his mother could not give him that anymore. No strength, no courage. No hope._

*

On Sunday Isak had a hard time concentrating in the light of the impeding week of classes and dance rehearsals, where he would have to face Even for the first time after what had transpired that Friday, after all the words that had been exchanged between them, after  _the kiss they had shared_. Truth be told, he could hardly think about anything else. Not only because of the wrongness surrounding the act considering their situation, but because it still, regardless of it  _all_ , made his heart feel like it wanted to jump right out of his chest.  _All the time._

Their kiss had been _both good and bad,_ and Isak was ashamed to admit that somehow that made it even better.

That first night he barely slept, thinking about the various possibilities it could have gone wrong had Sonja returned a little later or had they not heard her come into the apartment, what could have happened had she found them in that compromising position. It had drained him and made him paranoid throughout the next day, conjuring up thoughts of threatening phone calls as a result of Even deciding to tell Sonja of the incident, saying it was Isak that had come onto him and  _only him_ , not that he excluded the prospects of messages from Even himself, where he would plead with him to keep quiet about it or tell him that he did not mean to do it, that it was _just a mistake_. Isak was not entirely positive, which of the potential yet plausible scenarios was the one he dreaded the most.

 _Yet nothing came._  There was no message from either of them, no phone call,  _no anything_. By the time Sunday rolled around, Isak was still on pins and needles, though mostly he was just abnormally and utterly tired from being on edge for almost a good two days.

“What’s gotten you so worked-up, pumpkin?”

Isak broke out of another one of his reveries, instinctively looking down to the spaghetti babbling in the pot with the boiling water, and by the looks of it, he had succeeded in overcooking them, which was _just great._ Without sparing Eskild even a sideways glance as the man in question leaned against the kitchen counter, he only sighed and craned his neck to one side, thinking about the mushy noodles he would have to eat. He hated overcooked pasta.

“Just the regular,” Isak exhaled as he removed the pot from the stove. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You don’t look like your  _regular_  grumpy self, and I reckon it must be pretty serious, if it’s making you zone out to the point, where you mess up your nutritious meals.” Eskild stirred the sauce still bubbling on the stove, scrunching his face at it, which was no surprise whatsoever since he preferred frozen dinners and take-out to fresh, homemade food.  _Preference, my ass._  Honestly, he was  _just too lazy_ to put some effort into it.

And then there was Isak, who  _had to_ keep a proper diet, even on a tight schedule, in order to consume enough calories per day with as much nutritional value as possible, because he had to be in both good physical condition and have a healthy body inside out. Such was the life of professional ballet dancers, and it would not hurt Eskild to take up some of Isak’s eating habits.  _The things the guy sometimes put into himself, no pun intended_.

“I can see something’s wrong.” Eskild put the wooden spoon down and looked at Isak the way he always did at times like these, deliberately yet considerately, with one hand on his hip. “Tell me what’s bothering that precious brain of yours so much.”  _Tell you,_  Isak thought.  _How about not?_

He was just about to try and worm his way out of a serious conversation that he was too stressed to have right there and then, because he did not want to talk about it,  _could not talk about it_ , when William appeared at the threshold to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with a look that told Isak he had caught wind of the pair’s short interaction. But there was also something in his eyes, showing in the tightness of his jaw, a distinguishable feeling of pity for the younger boy, who was cornered by their eldest roommate, which said William understood Isak’s position.

“Eskild, why don’t you come with me to the park and join me for a round of jogging?” William propositioned Eskild casually, and as Isak looked more earnestly at the other he saw his unmistakable attire that consisted of sweatpants and sneakers. Eskild rolled his eyes even before he turned around for William to see, which meant it was done more for theatrical reasons than anything else.

“How long have you known me, William? I’m insulted that you think I’d partake in anything where I’d willingly sweat,” he protested exasperatedly while indicating with a hand towards Isak. “Plus, I need to take care of  _our lovechild_  right now, don’t you see he’s in distress.”

Isak cringed at the ‘nickname’, because it was ridiculous, but he did not say a word in fear of bringing the attention back to himself.  _It was simply not worth it._  It was a good thing William was there to do it for him.

“First of all, never refer to Isak as  _‘our lovechild’_ ever again. That is disgusting on so many levels.” William pulled a face as he stepped further into the room and slung an arm across Eskild’s shoulder. “Secondly, I’ll change my offer to coffee and cake, but move your butt before I come to my senses.”

All Isak could really do in that moment, his feet glued to the kitchen floor, was watch as William stirred a protesting Eskild towards the hallway, on second thought actually borderline dragged, before he gave him a little shove in the direction of their narrow foyer so that the other vanished out of Isak’s sight.  _So much for it being an offer._

“I’m going to skip my daily workout for you, so you better appreciate it,” William added as an afterthought down the corridor and took a quick look at Isak, giving an understanding yet curt nod of the head in recognition, with the tiniest of smiles at the corner of his mouth, which Isak gladly returned while he observed the boy follow the other to the front door.

Isak was not sure whether he would ever be able to put into words how thankful he was for William sometimes, Eskild too but on  _a whole other level_. And although he knew these two goons for the bare minimum of two years, Isak did not want to think about what his life would have become without the influence they have had on it in that time. While Eskild was a firecracker of positivity and sassiness, with a caring soul and an unexplainable maternal instinct for Isak, William was cool and withdrawn, with a far more quiet protective side to Eskild’s. It was difficult to see it at first, but he and Isak were on a similar wave length due to their matching personalities, they understood each other better, because they could relate to each other a lot easier, and Isak would not admit it, but William was often the person, who could keep him levelled, when he thought he was losing the floor under his feet.

He would never forget how the two of them managed to stumble upon each other under the odd circumstances of that night and,  _no matter what_ , he would be grateful for that fortunate turn of events for all eternity.

 

*

“Have room for one more?”

Unlike the weekend, Monday was not as unsettling as Isak had thought it would be, but he supposed all the paranoia of what could be or even  _could have been_  had started to die down considering nothing had happened, and probably would not be happening anytime soon, so Isak allowed himself to feel more at ease about the whole thing, because it was not doing his body any good stressing about it. Surprisingly, Isak was capable of maintaining a cool composure up to the late morning of Tuesday, even though the rehearsal of  _The Lovers_  was only a few hours away by then. He was betting on it all coming back to him full force as soon as he would be faced with the inevitable situation but that also meant that he would have a few hours to spare himself the worrying.  _Or so he thought_.

It was funny how the moment Sonja appeared before him at one of the benches outside the academy, where he was taking a short break during a free period, all the calm he had acquired up to that point seeped through his pores in an instant. Unexpected as it was, she had stepped up to him, a plastic cup in hand and a gigantic bag slung over her shoulder, draped in layers upon layers of clothes that looked velvety to the touch, a hint of a gentle smile on her face.

“Okay,” Isak had uttered after pausing for far too long, his throat suddenly parched and constricting due to the minor shock he had received, mouth hanging open in faint disbelief. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

There was more than enough room for her to take a seat without Isak moving, but he still scooted over on the bench, instinctively giving the girl some additional space. By the time she had plopped herself down with the bag on the ground at her feet, Isak had come up with various reasons as to why she could have decided to join him, the majority of them making him want to bolt.  _Does she know about it and had she come to confront him?_   _Did Even tell her anything?_   _Did she ‘make him’ tell her?_

All Isak wished for was for the treacherous voices in his head to die down.

“I have some minutes to spare and, since I saw you sitting here by  _your lonesome self_ ,” she drawled comically, obviously an attempt at a casual, light-hearted remark. “I thought I could take the time to ask you how you’re doing and whether you got home alright on Friday.”

_Inhale._

It was not what Isak had expected, however it did not prevent the wave of dread washing over him, momentarily locking up his limbs in pure fear, his mind racing a hundred miles per hour to think about whether or not she  _might be_  implying something with her inquiry.

_Exhale._

Licking his upper lip, dry as his tongue pressed against it, Isak decided he was overreacting and there was no reason to panic.  _Yet, at least._

“I’m good,  _it_  was good,” he was searching for words, any kind of words, and an explanation that would not make the other girl suspicious about his unordinary behaviour. “I messaged my friend to ease his worries on my way back to the flat and my roommates were glad I got home in one piece, I guess.”

The girl was not even looking at him anymore, her head lolling thoughtfully and a little absentmindedly between her shoulders as she twisted the cup in her hands, observing the contents as they swirled inside it.

“I’m sorry, is this weird?” Sonja turned her head to glance at him, her eyebrows drawn together, which made the troubled wrinkles on her forehead stand out. “I mean, I know we practically don't interact outside of rehearsals, not really that much during them either, but I thought that maybe we could change that? It would be nice to get to know my dance partners as oppose to just flying by them in the heap of the whole ordeal.” 

Isak failed to let what she had said settle in his mind wholly, too distracted with her appearance at that moment, which made her look incredibly vulnerable, sitting there and holding the plastic cup with both hands between her thighs, some of her hair falling into her face, her cheeks in a rosy hue due to the crisp air.  _Too small for the graceful prima ballerina that Isak knew she was._

“No, not at all,” he blurted out far quicker than intended, immediately realizing he had to backtrack his words for them to make more sense.  _He seemed to be saying all the wrong things lately_. “I mean weird. It’s not at all _weird_. And yes, that would be nice.”

The smile he gave her after that was genuine and Isak knew it helped, making Sonja visibly more relaxed, her shoulders easing into a comfortable position as she mirrored his expression. Isak watched her fix her gaze ahead of her again, silently observing the landscape with the sound of faint wind blowing through the trees, the rustling in the distance unmistakable.

“So, how are you doing?” He tried,  _he really did._  Small talk and all.

“I’m good. A little overwhelmed, but good.” The sigh she let out seemed like it was more than overdue, like she had been keeping it in for far too long than she should have, a _somewhat wistful noise in itself_. “I can’t believe my last year is at its end. It flies by so fast you don’t even _really_ realize it before you’re up to the waist in classes and rehearsals, wondering about where the time had gone and thinking about the applications you’ll have to deal with in a matter of months. Yet, somehow there is still a fascinating thrill to it.”

In a year’s time, Isak would without a doubt find himself in the same position, engrossed in his studies and the oncoming graduation from the academy, once again rehearsing for the End of Year Performance, which would be eating away most of his time and energy while his thoughts would continuously wander to applications for potential dance companies.  _A scary thought_ , if he was being honest _._

“Sounds tough,” he remarked, very aware of the feelings the girl beside him must be coping with. “At least you’re going to be able to do it together with Even, you know, applying for the same company and all that, so you won’t have to deal with it on your own.”

The moment he had said it out loud he felt ashamed for using the opportunity to drag the boy into the conversation, felt stupid for having a need to do it, because  _deep down_  Isak knew he was asking out of curiosity, out of jealous interest for Even and coincidentally his relationship with Sonja.

Sonja did not respond right away, and for a second Isak thought she was ignoring his observation on purpose, only for her to purse her lips and frown at nothing in particular.

“Well, I’m not so sure how that will work out,” she admitted and Isak did not know what to make of her comment, still he refused himself to ask her about it, figuring he had already overstepped a line with his previous assumption. As it turned out, he did not have to, because Sonja did it on her own account, when she finally looked at him again.

“Even’s done really well for himself during the year he spent in London, working hard to achieve the academy’s standards and complete their program successfully, which is why  _they_  are still keeping an eye on him and his progress up until the official graduation,” she explained in what could be considered a casual manner, were it not for the burdened look to her features that did not belong there. “He’s been quite vague about it, but something’s telling me  _The Royal Ballet_  has been dropping hints about taking him on. I’m positive they’d take him without a second thought, if he applied, and I know  _he wants to_.”

 _The Royal ‘Fucking’ Ballet_.  _That’s incredible_ , thought Isak.

“And you wouldn’t consider applying there?” After mulling her words over in his head, Isak dared to inquire without actually determining whether it was appropriate to do so or not. Probably a very delicate topic to probe into considering their relationship.  _Shit,_  he was doing it again.

“There’s no harm in trying, but I don’t think I’m what they’re looking for. I’m not  _‘Royal Ballet material’_ and I don’t want to be, if that makes any sense.” Sonja pulled a face before taking a sip of whatever it was she was drinking out of her cup. “Plus, I can’t really see myself leaving Norway for good. Travelling is fine, as long as I can be stationed here. You know, as long as I can  _return back home_.”

And there it was again, the emotion Isak knew all too well to not be able to read it in the faces of others.  _Insecurity_ ,  _so much insecurity_. He knew what a devastating feeling it was, out of all of them.

_It still haunted him on a daily basis._

“I get what you’re trying to say and it’s admirable you’re this loyal to yourself,” he reassured Sonja, causing her to shift her eyes to him again.  _Not every dancer dreams of The Royal Ballet._  “On the other hand, I also understand the fuss about The Royal Ballet. I mean, I know  _I’d do anything_  for an opportunity to join it.”

 _Isak was not lying_. The Royal Ballet had been on his radar ever since he had seen a shitty screening of the 1989’s  _The Prince of the Pagodas_  at age 10, so much that it had sucked him right in. What followed were years of getting himself acquainted with the company’s historical background and world-wide influence, learning the repertoire of their plays by heart and watching video clips of productions online,  _Steven McRae_  and  _Sergei Polunin_  becoming the first dancers he came to idolize in the hope of becoming just like them. 

Apart from dancing, all he ever wanted was some recognition for his passion, which seemed like a joke to a bunch of people,  _too many of them really_ , who dragged his interests through the mud, rendering them worthless. If making a name for himself would let him achieve that recognition, he was more than willing to give it all he had, so that his father could finally be proud of his choices, so that he could hold something over all the other boys, who made fun of him, telling him that  _"it's ridiculous"_  and  _"you're not a girl to be wearing a tutu"._  He was determined to prove them wrong.

“You certainly could.”

Sonja was studying him with eyes that were soft and a little remorseful, fortunately it did not seem as though she was trying to pity him, as though she was generically encouraging him, because she thought she had to.

“As you said _, ‘I don’t think I’m what they’re looking for’_ ,” Isak quoted, feeling on the verge of sighing in defeat, because he had actually meant it. _Why would the Royal Ballet want to take him on, an average dancer with no particular skill?_

“I said that, because I know I’m not comfortable with the company's regime, but I think you could be, probably already are in some way.” She tucked some of her hair that got blown into her face behind her ear before continuing. “You’re dedicated and a fast learner from what I’ve seen, most of all you don’t lack the discipline they’re asking for. And, you’re nothing less than talented. I mean, there’s a reason as to why you’re the only second-year to score a lead part in a play for the End of Year Performance.”

She sent a playful wink in his direction, which made Isak smile as well, secretly thankful to her for saying it all and making him feel better about himself.

“Funny enough, there is a bearing for dance in your eyes that reminds me of the one in Even’s own.”

The acknowledgment of the boy, who seemed to be a much more prominent figure connecting them than Sonja could ever imagine, sent Isak into an almost catatonic state, his smile dropping as he remembered that he had a crucial and unhealthy interest in said boy, had  _even kissed said boy_ , who was also in a long-term relationship with the girl currently sitting beside him, a girl that was nothing but thoughtful in regards to him. Isak's stomach churned from the retrospect.

“Oh, shoot. I have to get to class or Mrs Jewkes is going to pop a vein. She hates it, when people are not on time but,  _then again_ , you'll see for yourself next year.” Sonja got up and shouldered her bag so quickly, Isak barely even had the time to react to it. Very similar to how he was still not reacting to her, when she gave him a small wave at her departure, oblivious to it all. “I’ll see you at the rehearsal later on.”

Then she was gone, and with her the looming threat of her presence, yet Isak did not feel any more at ease.  _Not even close._  As the quiet returned, he sat there for a little longer, his chest heavy with the guilt taking over all of his senses.  _What had he gotten himself into?_

 _‘_ _I’ll see you at the rehearsal later on.’_

Later on did not arrive and Isak did not make it to his group's dance practice, because the nausea in his bowels peeked during his last class of the day, causing him to run to the bathroom right in the middle of it. Upon his return, professor Flatner instructed him to immediately head home, since he still appeared a little green in the face, informing Isak that he would let his instructor know about him missing out on a practice.

Isak did not protest the professor’s orders, thinking it is  _all really a blessing in disguise_  and allowing the older man to believe in his theory about him eating food that must have unsettled his stomach. In order to do so, Isak had to shroud the truth about it being something entirely different that had brought his insides into a twist, the nasty shame of his actions scraping at his internal walls.

 _A cowardly move_ , he knew as much, but as long as he got to avoid the rehearsal that day, Isak did not care about anything else.  _He was simply thankful he got to bypass it._

 

*

In the light of the next day, it seemed it may not have been _much of a blessing_.

Professor Almaas gave Isak the signal to hurry up with his stretching exercises from the other end of the room as soon as he and Jonas entered the enclosed area for their collective rehearsal on Wednesday, adding that he should join them centre stage immediately after.  _Them_  being the professor himself, his group’s dance instructor and his partners, who were still at the side-lines doing their own stretching.

At that moment Isak remembered, and almost choked on air itself.  _Holly shit._  They were supposed to showcase the progress they have made during group practices, with the emphasis on one of their joint numbers, where Lysander and Demetrius, both under the influence of the flower’s juice, pursue a confused Helena while Hermia desperately tries to gain her lover’s attention, which results in a collaborative chaos of their characters pushing and pulling in a beautifully orchestrated dance on stage.

 _Not particularly surprising._  It was about time, since they were soon to include  _Puck_ into some of their rehearsals to match his interaction with that of the four lovers, but due to the current circumstances Isak was not at all prepared for it.  _Not how he wanted to be prepared for it, at least._

Jonas gave him a curious look as he got to his feet after his stretching to join the others, who were already in the middle of the stage. There was a question on his lips, which he never got to ask since Isak did not give him a chance to do so, but rather walked straight up to his three dance partners talking to professor Almaas.

“So, we’re just going to be taking it from there and see, where we’ll end up. As  _Endre_  informed me, you still need to wrap it all up, but we have to do this as fast as possible so that you can move on to include the fairies,” Professor Almaas explained, his eyes landing on Isak, when he realized he had graced them with his presence. “I see you’re better today.  _That’s good_ , because we cannot have you getting a virus infection at this point.”

“No, I’m fine,” Isak was quick to elaborate, without taking his sight off the professor.  _He dared not to_. He noticed that he was fortunate enough to not be standing beside Even, since Sonja was next to him, but that did not reassure him much either. “Something must have upset my stomach, that’s all.”

_A white lie that seemed to have become his mantra._

“Okay, shall we?” Professor Almaas clapped his hands together and made a move to give the young dancers some space, talking louder and louder as he was shuffling further away from them. “On your marks and wait for the instructor’s cue, remember to follow the music to stay in rhythm.”

Sonja gave him a small, sympathetic nod, which he caught as she withdrew to take her place at the side, where she would be awaiting her signal to enter, but that also meant that she left Isak to face Even, who was suddenly looking directly at him,  _staring at him_  in a way that made it hard for Isak to not look right back at him. There was something raw and exposed in his eyes that made Isak want to move, to  _move the fuck away right now_ , but his body just did not want to respond to his plea. 

_Fuck all of this._

When his feet finally took charge, Isak went to his spot. His sight was cast to the floorboards the entire time until he lay down onto the ground and arranged himself into the desired position, refusing to think about it anymore, refusing to notice anything except for the music that would guide him through his steps in a moment’s time.  _Concentrate_. Hear the music. Feel it.

_That’s all that matters right now._

The next thing he experienced was Emma’s soft touch against his arm and shoulder, trying to wake him up in sync with the tempo of the song that filled the air seconds before. Isak raised himself to a sitting position as though he were waking from slumber, his face morphing into that of a lovesick fool at the sight of the female by his side.  _It was all brand new_ , the amount of dramatics he had to include into his dancing and facial expressions in order to make the whole thing appear theatrical, the movements telling a story of their own.  _It was fascinating_.

Isak leaped onto his feet, bent his legs and arched his back, his hand gestures extravagant as he went after Emma, who tried to pry herself away from him as best as she could, twirling off just to be pulled back into him by the waist and lifted off the ground for her legs to split in mid-air before her feet touched the ground underneath her yet again. He got immersed in his part  _like he always did_ , forgetting that Even was just about to enter the scene, when Emma pushed him away so that he stumbled across the floor in a succession of quick, short steps and was met with Even, standing close to him due to them colliding almost head-on as the scene demanded of them, his face right in front of Isak’s, eyes staring him down so that he momentarily lost himself in them.  _So deep, so blue._

 _Just for him_.

Even’s hand flattened at one side of his belly, dragging across the surface of his taut stomach to the other side, slowly and almost tenderly, which made Isak suck in some extra air, because it made his insides clench at the pressure of the other’s flesh against his. Their short interaction was filled with an unexplained tension, seemed far too prolonged than it should have been as Even kept his eyes glued to Isak’s up until his hand curled around Isak’s hip at the back and nudged him forward with a decisive push, thus breaking the bubble they had created to make way for the comical input of Isak being shoved aside so that Even could get to Emma.  _It seemed to have worked_ , Isak could hear muffled snicker from the side-lines, their co-dancers obviously watching their performance.

After recovering, Isak went right back in, Sonja eventually joining them as well. He moved to the music step by step, edging closer and backing away from his dance partners as required, keeping in mind what they had rehearsed beforehand while vaguely registering their instructor’s voice giving them pointers that could be heard over the music.  _He could do this_.

He was sliding across the floor to Emma, trying to take her into his arms, while Even was attempting to achieve the same from behind her, making Isak aware of what was about to happen, a _ware of the next move that they included into the number_ , and he stilled himself for what was to come. Emma ducked and slipped through in the last second, resulting in the two of them falling into each other, embracing for a moment, in which they thought they had managed to catch their beloved. It was supposed to be brief, until Even’s arms tightened around him more than they should have, until Isak could feel a slight breath somewhere at the side of his face, a tingling sensation against the delicate skin there, and the warmth of the other seeping through his clothes at his front. Isak could not help himself, when he hesitated in breaking their contact.

 _So near, yet not near enough_. His body let him know how much he wanted it, _wanted Even_. It made him want to wrap himself around the other and not let go.

In the last second, when the music announced another segment, which they had yet to complete, Isak pushed Even relatively harshly away from him, breathing hard as he watched his dancer partner do the same a few feet away from him.  _Maybe he could not do this after all_.

A beat’s silence settled in the room, before professor Almaas cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Well,” he commented with a raise of his eyebrows. Something was off in the way he spoke, but no one ever paid much attention to it since the guy had some peculiar quirks. “That was surprisingly better than I had originally expected.  _Not bad,_  but also not what I know you’re capable of. You all need a lot of work with your expressions and mannerisms, that much is obvious. You’re the  _mismatched suitors_ , you have to make the audience believe just that, so _keep that in mind_. Other than that, all of your individual weaknesses need to be addressed, separately of course, so I’ll be joining your next rehearsal.”

In other circumstances, Isak would have been utterly disappointed in himself for such evaluation, were it not for the fact that all of the other dancers in their respective groups had received similar critic, seeing as professor Almaas was known for having high expectations, when it came to his students. He was relatively laid-back ‘outside the classroom’, but otherwise very serious about dancers slaking off, always trying to push them to their limits so that they could achieve the best they were able to.  _That alone said a lot about the guy_ _, quirks excluded._

“Isak and Even,” he motioned for them to come closer in order of speaking to them in private, taking a few steps towards them to meet them halfway. “Great teamwork and well-executed transitions, but you might want to tone it down with the intensity of it. Your interaction is supposed to be competitive, with a hint of humour,  _you know_.” As he was telling them that, it seemed he was also contemplating his own words simultaneously, mulling them over in his mind. “Take it with less gravity, you two are not scorned lovers after all.”

Once the professor had left them on their own, Isak instinctively shifted his eyes toward the boy, who already had his whole attention focused on Isak himself, giving him this look that was different from the one before, a look that struck him right in the chest like a heavy blow and made him want to scream.

_A reflection of shameful want and misery, of wistfulness buried under anguish and disgrace._

For some reason,  _it made Isak’s blood boil_ , a feeling of anger rising to the surface that he could not explain and maybe he did not want to.  _Maybe_  he just wanted to be mad at Even, because he deserved it, because there was a good chance it would make Isak feel better about his own feelings.

Isak stalked off without a second thought, returning to his place next to Jonas and trying to ignore Even for the rest of the rehearsal entirely, which he exceeded in doing for the most part.

 _You do not have the right to look at me like that_.

 

*

_Isak’s father was a traditionalist._

_For a long time Isak did not understand what that meant, but he knew early on that his father was not particularly comfortable with his son’s ‘peculiar’ interest._

_At first he did not mind it much, thinking it was just an innocent whim of a child that would pass soon enough and, if his son found temporary joy in it, it could not do a lot of damage. As Isak grew older, it became apparent that the boy's interest for ballet wound not go away as he had thought, the trivial pastime of his turning into a serious pursuit, and Isak’s father became anxious, asking his wife if it was “a smart idea” and saying that she “shouldn’t encourage it that much”._

_Isak’s father was a traditionalist, and he did not believe his son’s future should consist of him prancing around a stage in tights._

_But that was okay, because he had his mother, who watched him practice in their living room on a daily basis and drove him to and from his classes, telling him how well he was doing with an encouraging smile on her face. It was okay, because she believed in him and that was all that mattered to Isak._

_Whenever his parents fought, the topic of ‘Isak and his ballet’ always slipped into the argument, even when it was not the premise of their disagreement, resulting in Isak’s father accusing his mother for “turning Isak into a princess” and Isak’s mother defending him. Over time, their fights became louder and more vicious, until Isak was able to hear them through the walls of his bedroom, through the thick covers of his bed, where he sometimes curled himself into a ball and cried because it was hurting him. Because they were hurting him._

_Throughout the years, Isak realized neither he nor his interest for ballet were to blame for their constant fighting, that there were other reasons that lead to them splitting up, ending with his father walking out on his mother, but it had been different then, when everything seemed to be falling apart around him._

_It had not been his fault, but a self-conscious 13-year-old is easier to convince into believing otherwise._

*

“You're angry.”

_It was not a question._

Isak did not have to turn around to know that Even was standing right behind him, cornering him in the changing room while he was in the midst of packing up his duffle bag after Friday’s group rehearsal. They had gone without exchanging a word so far, and Isak felt there was no need for them to change that.  _Still_ , he was itching to say something. Nothing good,  _just something_.

“I'm not.” Isak had never been very good at lying. He was good at keeping things from others, had they not the tendency of poking their noses into his business, but lying was not one of his strengths.  _Never would be._

In the unlikely possibility that he would be, what he had said in that moment,  _how he had said it_ , would undoubtedly be recognised as a lie. It showed in his attitude, his stiff limbs and rigid posture. Isak knew that, others would have known that, and so did  _Even_. None of the two was trying to fool the other that it was the truth, neither of them believing it anyway.

“You are,” Isak heard him say with conviction, void of force or vigour. _A voice of understanding_. “You are very,  _very angry_. And, that's okay, because you have every right to be angry. What I did―”

“You mean saying all those things right before kissing me and then ignoring it, or giving me these looks while draping yourself all over Sonja,” He raised his voice, determined to reveal his frustrations after keeping them in for so long. Dropping the socks he had been holding in his hands, Isak turned around to face the other, taking in the figure still clad in sweaty dance attire, the light clothing sticking to his body in certain areas. “It's not fair, to  _me_  o _r her_.”

“You're right, it's not fair to either of you.”

There it was again.  _That look_ , that shameful look of misery and want, all that  _guilty want_. Isak wanted to combust from the way it made him feel.

“Stop it,  _just stop it!”_  He was so on edge, he could not take it anymore. “You are not entitled to look at me like that, not when you still have a girlfriend, not when you kissed me while still in a relationship with her.”  _Not when you know how I feel about you_ , he wanted to say, but left the words unspoken. For once,  _he knew better than to do that_.

Even did not respond at first, and Isak recognized that he appeared worn-out and defeated, the boy’s hands tucked into his narrow hips, staring at him like he was fed up with the world, his eyes tired and without light. Isak had not taken a good enough look at him beforehand to see it.

“What do you want me to say? That I know what I'm doing, that I’m doing it all _on purpose_?” Even heaved a sigh, his hand rubbing at his forehead before swinging through the air between them in indication. “That I'm absolutely able to wrap my head around  _this mess_  of a situation?”

“I don’t know, Even.  _Maybe_.” Responding almost immediately, Isak noticed that he sounded just as tired of it all.  _Drained even_. “You should have known better.”

“I should have, and I'm truly sorry that I didn't. I never meant to make this harder for you.” Even’s tone was sincere, and Isak believed he was actually remorseful for how everything had turned out. “As cliché as it may sound, I couldn't help myself around you anymore. I didn’t even think what kind of consequences my actions would have.”

“Let me guess, it was all  _in the heat of the moment_ , right?” Isak snorted without an ounce of humour, turning around to stuff the socks into his bag before he faced the other again. “An opportunity for the taking, I get it.”

Even’s posture changed the moment the words left Isak’s mouth, his expression hardening as though he had been slapped, his eyes stricken with hurt _. By Isak’s words alone._

“An opportunity?” He not only seemed visibly upset, he sounded so too, trying to search Isak’s face for clues of his accusations as though he could not believe he had heard him correctly. “You think that's what it was? You really believe that's how I see you?”

 _Not really a surprise_ , Isak thought with a heavy heart.  _You wouldn't be the first_.

“It doesn't matter what I believe it had been, doesn't matter what it actually was, because it doesn't matter  _at all_. In the end it's not the reality of our current predicament, Even.” His eyes were stinging, so he tried to avoid looking directly at the other while he shouldered his duffle bag, yet he felt he owed the boy a final look to not seem suspicious about how he truly felt. “This is the fantasy that we'd like to think matters, when it does not.”

Isak headed for the door, resolved to leave their conversation at that, when Even grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back to face him so that they were standing closer together with Even’s hand still halfway curled around his limb, which caused Isak to drop his bag to the floor. He wanted to say something, yell at Even to  _fuck off_  and push him away, but one look at the boy sealed his lips in an instant.

 _The way he was looking at Isak in that moment, not even Chris had looked at him like that_. For a split second, it made Isak’s heart stop.  _Not even once._

“You can say what you want, but you can't tell me that my feelings for you do not matter at all, that what I feel for you is not real.” Even's voice was low,  _lower than he had ever heard it_ , and there was something pleasantly dark and sensual about it, sending chills up Isak's spine.

“You cannot make me feel sorry for how I feel about you.”

The hand on his bicep had a solid grip on him, not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to not make it easy for him to escape from its clutches.  _Not that Isak would have the ability to do so anyway_. He knew he would not be able to move a muscle would the hand release him completely.

Even’s other hand brushed along the surface on the side of his neck, gently anchoring itself at the back while a thumb continued to graze the edge of his jaw. Isak’s eyes fluttered at the touch, his mouth opening just a fraction, when Even’s face came in closer, as if on instinct. He could feel the other’s breath on his cheek, his nose barely even pressing into the skin there.

“I dare you to  _fake this_ ,” Even whispered, but the words resonated loudly in Isak’s ears nonetheless. For some reason, they made his heart sore.  _He could not explain it_. “Fake this for me, Isak.”

When Even finally slotted their mouths together, kissing him for the second time around, it was nothing like their first kiss had been, no resemblance to it except for the softness of the other's lips. Even kissed him like he was starving for it, like he wanted to prove something with the force of it, and Isak did not doubt that had been his intention.  _The intention of proving Isak wrong._

The kiss took Isak by surprise, even though he had been expecting it, to the point that it had cut of his oxygen and he had to inhale deeply through his nose, his hands flying to Even's sides, settling right below his upper arms and digging into the other's ribs cage from the intensity. He could have easily broken their kiss to take a breath, but that was not a reasonable option in Isak's mind.  _No bone in his body_  allowed him to detach himself from Even then and there.

Mouths slid against each other, half open so that Isak could taste just a hint of Even's tongue, teasing him and luring him into opening his mouth even further.  _So he did_ , because he was weak.  _Because Isak was weak and yearning_.

In the back of his mind, Isak became aware that they had managed to migrate to the row of lockers, when he felt the familiar steel of the cabinets at his back, a combination lock jabbing into his flesh there. Isak let himself be pressed against the relatively cold surface, let Even's hands caress his face and neck with his tongue down his throat, the other's body plastered to his front. With Even there, enclosed in his arms,  _Isak could have stayed like that forever._

Isak's own hands ran across the other's torso, coming to rest at his shoulder blades and pulling Even that much closer to himself, because he wanted more,  _longed for more_  from the boy he so desired.  _Nothing seemed enough_. It was driving him crazy, how much he needed the other's touch.

A whimper escaped him as Even pulled away for only a second, melting anon as his lips returned to him. At one point they failed to return, the other moving back just enough for Isak to observe the shadows on his face, his eyes downcast and framed by long eyelashes. Only then did he notice that one of his own hands had ventured to Even's front, down to the edge of the other's sweatpants, absentmindedly running along the area, where the fabric met the supple skin of the boy's stomach, fingers playing with the idea of dipping under the material.

“Isak,” Even panted softly against the side of his face, obviously much more affected by Isak's hand near his lower regions than Isak could have wished for.  _Isak was so desperately hard himself._  “Isak, you don't―”

Isak's hand slipped beneath the cotton of his pants before Even could even finish his sentence, under the several layers of clothing, and wrapped around the other's stiffening member, hot and heavy in his palm, making Isak release a distinct sigh at the intimate feeling. Even was hard,  _just for him,_  and he was moaning in his ear as he hid his face in the crook of his neck, eventually sucking a bruise into the skin just beneath his ear while Isak stroked along his cock.

“ _Fuck_ , Isak.” It was the first time Isak had heard the other boy swear like that, all out of breath and needy, clutching at his hips while crowding a thigh between Isak’s legs, rubbing along and pressing down on his dick  _just right_  to cause enough friction there. Isak caught his breath on an incomprehensible stutter and knew he would not last for long, considering it had been a while since he had been intimate with anyone, especially someone he craved as much as Even.  _Fuck indeed._

Feeling his orgasm approaching, Isak sped up the movements of his hand in the hope of bringing Even to his climax before himself, wanting to experience it before succumbing to his own release. When he heard Even groan, biting down at the juncture, where his neck and shoulder meet, and felt him spill into the palm of his hand, Isak let go entirely.

Riding the high of an orgasm like that was euphoric in itself, an ecstasy of indescribable proportions. The problem was that everyone had to eventually come down from it, realizing there was a reality they managed to ignore in the meantime.  _A reality so cruel one could only wish to be able to escape_.

 

*

_Nothing was more excruciating than coming down from that high._

“What  _the hell_  am I doing?”

While Isak managed to slip into the bathroom to wash away the cum clinging to his palm and remove his stained underwear, horrifyingly embarrassed about the remnants of their fornication, Even had not moved much at all, seeing as he seemed to have ventured only to the wall next to the lockers, where he had sagged to the floor into a sitting position, his knees drawn close to his chest, his eyes looking at nothing in particular.

Upon finding him in that position, Isak did not know whether it was the right thing to join him on the floor or to stay away at a considerable distance, so he hesitated in his actions at first. However, when he recognized the distraught look on the other’s face, he did not think twice about arranging himself into the same position next to the boy.

 _Just like that night_ , Isak vaguely came to recall in the silence that had enveloped them.  _Just like that night, when you first kissed me at the foot of your bed_.

“I’m sorry _, I’m so sorry_.” Even’s voice was small and jittery,  _nervous and scared_ , as he uttered the first few words into the stillness of the room. He immediately turned to look at Even, finding the boy’s eyes observing him already. “Not for what I’ve said, I meant  _everything_  I’ve said. My feelings for you are genuine _,_ you have to know this.”

 _He did_ , because Isak did indeed believe Even. He believed him, when he said all those things about how he felt for him.  _He still did_ , seeing the truth in his demeanour, in the lines of his face and the gestures of his body, hearing it in the other’s voice.

Even was not a lying bastard, who tricked people and fucked around for the fun of it.  _Even was not Chris,_ Isak finally realized as much.  _Even was a decent guy._

“I am not a cheater, Isak. I s _wear to you_  that I have never approved of cheating, I’m not―” He ran his hands through his hair, fingers scrapping at his scalp in frustration and agony.  _Isak saw it all_. “This is so  _fucked up_.”

The boy, suddenly seeming incredibly young in Isak’s eyes, rested his head on the caps of his knees, face buried into the hard surface there. Isak’s heart clenched at the sight and he became aware that he hated seeing Even in such despair.

_He finally managed to fall for a good guy, who he unfortunately could not have._

“I really don’t know what to say or do at this point.”

 _There was only one thing they could do_. The mess they have created, albeit unintentionally, could be resolved, but it came with a price. Sonja was a nice girl and did not deserve to be deceived in such a way. Even did not deserve to be trapped in such a devastating situation, blaming himself for everything happening around him that he could not control or understand. And  _Isak_ , he himself came to recognize that he also did not deserve any of this.  _Not like this._

Isak knew what they had to do, even though it would undoubtedly hurt, even though it would make him feel worse than he was able to comprehend in that moment, but it was the right thing to do.  _None of them deserved this._  He would not be repeating the same mistake all over again.

Focusing on the task at hand, Isak pushed aside his own feelings for the time being and dared to make the first move, extending his hand and hardly even grazing the tips of Even’s locks, tenderly weaving his fingers through the boy’s hair, when the other raised his head to look up at him.

“You know what you’re going to do?” Isak did his best to keep his voice steady and neutral,  _soothing almost_ , while Even awaited his answer. “You’re going to change your clothes and pack your stuff. Then you’re going to go home,  _like you always do_ , and go on about your day like you normally would.  _Nothing is going to change_.”

He watched as Even’s face scrunched up in confusion, a mildly apprehensive expression accompanying it. Isak did not want to do this, but he had to. He had to say it.  _It was now or never._

“You’re going to go back to Sonja. You won’t tell her anything and neither will I, and we will keep what had happened between us to ourselves.”  _It will be our little secret_ , Isak thought bitterly. It sounded wrong,  _so absolutely wrong_ , but it would remain that way nonetheless. “I promise, I won’t say a word.”

“Isak, I’m not―” Even started, his eyes wide and panicked, like he wanted to do everything to oppose the proposition, say anything that would make Isak doubt his decision, so Isak did not let him.

“ _I know_. And I believe you _, I really do_ ,” He insisted softly yet firmly. “I also know that it’s reckless to throw away a relationship of several years for a sudden and curious infatuation. As you said, it’s a ‘fucked up’ situation, and we should not be trying to  _fuck it up_  even more. Especially, if we don’t even know what we’re actually doing.”

Isak gazed into Even’s face some more, avoiding his eyes at all costs, before he removed his hand from where it was still entangled in Even’s hair, standing up from the floor to go pick up the duffle bag that he had dropped earlier. He shouldered it again and turned back to Even, who was staring somewhat blankly at his own feet.

On his way out of the changing room, Isak stepped up to him and leaned down to press an approximation of a gentle kiss to Even’s temple.

“I meant  _everything I’ve said_  too,” he whispered, voice on the verge of breaking, and disappeared through the door and into the hallway, where the echo of his feet against the ground accompanied the sickly pain jabbing him in the chest.  _It was the right thing to do_ , Isak kept telling himself.

Somehow, Isak had made it all the way home, across the threshold of his apartment and into the living room, where he found Eskild and William lounging on their couch, immersed in an argument about each other’s movie choices. It was then that his composure crumbled.

Eskild took one look at him, his face falling and mouth forming the words “ _What’s wrong, Isak? What happened?_ ” becoming the reason for Isak to notice that he was very much crying, silent tears wetting his cheeks. Both of them crowded around him instantaneously, Eskild hugging him and carefully patting him on the back, while William hovered close by, urging Isak to tell him  _“who the fucking douchebag was that caused this”_. In other circumstances, Isak would have found the entire scene hilarious, but right then he could not. He was too tired, too emotional.  _Too everything_.

Lying in bed that night, tucked under his comfy blankets in the darkness of his room, Isak stared at the illuminated screen of his phone, eyes glued to the unanswered message that he had sent to his mother a week prior. He wondered whether she had read it.

At this point,  _Isak did not care_. He was not willing to give up, not now that he had gathered the courage to come in contact with her again, so he decided to start sending her messages, every now and then, regardless of whether she would read them or not, reply to them or ignore them completely. He was going to start sending her messages about all the things he always wanted to share with her, but was never able to. Isak also knew exactly where to begin.

_‘I was thirteen, when I understood I liked boys the way other boys liked girls. I understood it and accepted it, because I didn’t feel the need to be ashamed for the way I felt. And I wanted to tell you about it, but then dad left us and suddenly I couldn’t do it anymore. All those years afterwards, I still couldn’t. I was never brave enough to try and confide in you again.’_


	5. An Act of Staring at the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody, I am sooooo sorry! >_< I am so sorry, because it always seems to take me a profoundly long time to post another chapter and because you have to wait for it this long. Gosh, I feel so bad about this. You must be really annoyed with me at this point, right? Please, don’t be mad.
> 
> It’s difficult to manage everything, because ordinary life just seems to be getting into the way. Plus, I always take extra time for writing, because I want it to be good and proper, and well-written and interesting, and blah, blah, blah (as Isak would say, haha). 
> 
> I hope you can forgive me for taking this long with an update and rather rejoice in the new chapter. I will do my best to make the updates more regular from now on. :) Again, I think it’s the longest chapter up until now, phew – that’s me making up for the time I kept you guys waiting. So, I hope you’ll enjoy it! :)
> 
> I want to rant on about the progression this season has made so far, but I guess I’ll only end up with an essay, if I do that. XD However, I’d like to mention 2017 Gullruten Awards and how proud I am of SKAM, Julie Andem and our boys for winning the awards! They deserved it! <3
> 
> Other than that, please remember to COMMENT, if possible as LONG AND ELABORATE as you are willing to! :) It really means something to me, especially since I have such low self-esteem in general, so YOUR SUPPORT AND ENTHUSIASM for the story really gets my spirits up. It lets me know that you like what I am doing and that gives me confidence; it inspires me, keeps me focused and going, and gives me the drive to write more. So, please do comment about everything and anything! I would love to know all of your thoughts on it! ^_^
> 
> Thank you also for all of your lovely comments on the previous chapter! <333

*

_“When are you going to stop being so childish and realize ballet will get you nowhere,” Isak's mother had shouted over the hissing sound of the kettle on the stove. “It’s time for you to grow up.”_

_There was something spiteful in the words, and Isak could hear them a long time after they had been spoken, like an ugly echo reverberating in his ears. While his mother may have mentioned, more than once, that he had been a major contributing factor for the unhappiness of his father and their recently broken family, she had never before claimed that ballet was a waste of time, that his biggest passion in life was only a nonsensical matter and that he was being delusional, if he thought he could achieve anything with it._

_“You won’t make it anyway.”_

_Never before had she rendered his dreams worthless. Until that moment._

_Isak did not know how to respond to it. The only thing that still made sense in his life after their father's departure and everything that happened with Chris had been destroyed with a few simple words. And, the only person that he thought would always have his back had crushed his belief in a blink on an eye._

_He had exited the kitchen without a comment and, for whatever reason, made a detour into their living room, where he snatched a bottle of some French wine from their glass cabinet. Upon returning to his room, he proceeded with helping himself to the contents of the bottle, which someone had brought them as a gift at one point. He had no idea why the sudden decision to consume the expensive drink, maybe because he knew it had been saved for a special occasion and he was trying to be rebellious. Maybe because his mother had hurt and insulted him in the worst way possible in Isak’s opinion and he wanted to waste something he thought was valuable in her eyes._

_At least something._

_It was stupid, really. Isak already knew he was bad at holding his alcohol, and he hated how wine tasted in general, but he still did it. Good thing it was a Friday, so he did not have to worry about the consequences of getting drunk on a school day, or even his mother coming into his room to check up on him. She had not placed a foot into his room in over four months._

_By the time he had emptied almost half the bottle, he felt the urge to rant out to his best friend, so Isak checked into Facebook with the purpose of writing Jonas a long and extensive message in the state he was in, but something else caught his attention. The ‘Penetrators’, an association of immature guys, who were the closest to a fraternity Isak knew of, were having a party to introduce new potential members into their crowd that night. The invite had popped up in his notifications only because he knew some of the people that were attending the get-together. Isak had no connection to it otherwise, except for the fact that he knew the person, who had only just become the head of the association, on a ‘particularly personal’ level._

_Christoffer Schistad._

_Isak had stared at the invite information for some minutes, taking in the details of the location, before he stumbled to his feet and slipped out of the house with only one intention in his mind. The intention of attending that party. Or, you know, crashing it._

_Had he thought about it for only a second, Isak would have figured out that his decision was a definite recipe for disaster._

*

The weekend had passed in what could only be described as a daze for Isak. With no distinct perception of time. _Dismal and lacking clarity_.

In general, it had not been that much different from any other, with the exception of Eskild running circles around him, trying to cater to his every need even though Isak would not let him, and William shooting him sceptical looks, when he thought Isak did not notice them. They were acting like he was going to break, and it was all _a little too much_. It was making him feel ‘breakable’ and he was done with feeling like that.

But he understood where their behaviour was coming from. Eskild had not seen him cry prior to that moment, so it probably startled him that much more, and it was only the second time for William to experience it. _The first time after Chris._

Regardless of their insistent pushing, Isak did not tell them the reason for his breakdown, though he essentially did not have to. The way he had responded, _defenceless and destroyed_ , told them enough to know it was a matter of the heart.

Isak was aware that it had taken a toll on him. Yes, his limbs felt heavier than usual, and maybe he did not have much energy to do anything, but still. _Still,_ he went on about his days as ordinary, because life goes on and _a little heartache_ is not a reason to put it on hold. _Still_ , he went on about his errands like he always did, thinking that he had some time to hide from the World, some _more_ time to avoid dealing with the inevitable. That idea was short-lived.

On Sunday morning he received an e-mail from professor Almaas, informing all their dancers that their collective rehearsal would exceptionally be moved up to Monday, because he would have to attend an important meeting on Wednesday, and apologizing for the inconvenience. _Inconvenience_ , thought Isak miserably. _Not exactly the word I would use_.

Therefore, Isak found himself in the midst of their entire dance ensemble come Monday afternoon, feeling as odd as ever, which also had nothing to do with the fact that they had to switch from their regular location to another, much smaller practice room, and _everything_ to do with a certain handsome, long-limbed dancer. 

A day beforehand, Isak had talked himself into disregarding the other by avoiding any unnecessary physical contact, as well as all of the possible eye-contact, or at least keeping it to a minimum. He had coached his mind into not giving a damn about the awkward situation it might create and, _above all,_ not caring about looking at the boy. _Especially_ about not looking at the boy. And yet, all of that proved to be useless, because as much as he tried to rationalize his intentions, he could not resist his eyes from wandering to Even, _always and only to Even_ , lingering there as briefly as possible.

However, if he thought that he was being relatively subtle about it, he was clearly mistaken.

“It’s different now.”

Isak took a glance at Jonas, who had just gotten to his feet after kneading his leg muscles post practice and leaned beside him on the barre, watching Isak as though he would be able to figure him out just by examining the other’s face. _It was a thing Jonas was used to doing, when he thought something was up._

“What’s different?” The question came out of his mouth more on reflex than anything else, because he had a hunch about where this was going. It was written all across his best friend’s face, albeit vaguely, so Isak was not entirely sure. He knew for certain though, when he saw Jonas throw a quick look across the room. Isak did not have to follow his eyes to know that he had his sight fixated on Even.

“The way you look at him.” Jonas said to him, a guarded look in his eyes that spoke of concern, which also reminded Isak that Jonas had been there, had stood by him through the turmoil that had been his liaison with Chris. “It's like you're staring at the sun. Watching and taking it all in until it stings your eyes but you bear through the pain, because it’s worth the prickling feeling afterwards that makes it real.”

_Sometimes Isak forgot how much of a poet Jonas could actually be. Well, shit._

“I know that kind of look and you’re wearing it _right now_.”

Isak did not know how to respond to that, because _deep down_ he knew that what his friend had said was not far from the truth. He did not know how to respond to that, which is why _he did not_ , and rather marvelled in the feelings that were supposed to _be real_ , that were supposed to _matter. It was excruciatingly terrifying_.

He chanced another look at the boy, who made him feel in that _particularly scary way_ , and this time he did not shy away from letting his eyes linger just a little longer. _Just so he could marvel some more in all that was Even._

“Should I be worried?” Isak heard Jonas speak up next to him, so he thought about it. _Should he be?_

When he noticed that Even had now turned away from one of their dance instructors in order to meet his eyes, Isak became aware that not only he but also the instructor himself and professor Almaas, who was beckoning him over to where the three of them stood, were now _all looking expectantly_ at him. _Here goes nothing._

“No, you shouldn’t.” Isak did not have to lie this time, because _that much was true_. If anything, he did not want Jonas to fret about him. His friend did not need to be concerned, because he could deal with this on his own. _Nobody needed to be worried about him._

Isak pushed off the barre and made his way to the trio patiently waiting for his arrival in order to resume their conversation where they had left off. Once he came close enough and situated himself next to their instructor, the professor focused his attention on his two main dancers, taking a breath before addressing them somewhat eagerly.

“After you showcased your number last week, I’ve had time to think things through over the weekend,” the man began in a contemplating manner, pressing the index fingers of his clasped hands to his lips and looking at the clueless boys. “I want to make changes to your segment in that particular number, so that it will incorporate the same tension you danced with the last time.”

The sentence was left hanging in the air between them with the anticipation of an answer, possibly and most probably an affirmative answer from two people in that group, who immediately locked gazes as soon as the words were out of their professor’s mouth, matching looks of uncertainty and reluctance on their faces. _This was definitely not what they expected to hear._

“I must say, I was hoping for a more enthusiastic response,” commented professor Almaas, breaking the drawn-out silence that seemed louder than any noise in that particular moment. In the background, they could already hear the rest of the dancers moving, one by one slowly shuffling out of the room.

“No, it’s not that we’re not interested. We just thought‒” Even tried to explain, glimpsing into Isak’s direction for either a confirmation of what he was going to say or help with the excuse for their behaviour. He had to do something.

“You said to ‘tone it down’, so we’re kind of surprised by the idea,” Isak finished for Even, a little uncertain. _It was not a good idea and they both knew it._

“I did say that, because that dance number is generally designed to be more easy-going and amusing.” The professor went on to elaborate his choice for such a proposition. “Despite that, the intensity you danced with in that moment was _something else_. It was borderline bothering me and I kept thinking what I could do with it – _it would be a waste not to_ – so I decided to do this differently, bring more dynamic into the piece. There should still be the same impish tone dictating the number, but I want to break that playfulness with your interaction, buzzing with a deeper implication to your characters.”

 _The intensity of their interaction_. Isak and Even looked at each other again, well aware of the thoughts going through their minds right about then. There was no doubt about it. _A deeper implication to their characters._

They both knew what it meant, what it meant for them to risk the chance of agreeing to the idea. _They should not be playing with fire._

“I already decided on the music with _Endre_ here, which should match the changes to the dance routine. It has the same time signature, so you should not have a problem with the pre-existing steps.” He was looking from one to the other, with a promising glint in his eyes. “So, what do you say?”

 _Mother always told him not to play with fire._ Eyes still on Even, silently observing the other boy, Isak took a deep breath. _Then again, his mother used to say a lot of things_.

“Sure.”

Once he had said it, Isak excused himself before anyone else could speak up and left the practice room after picking up his towel and water from the corner, where he had left them, his mind working hastily through a variety of mangled thoughts. _What was he even thinking agreeing to it?_

As soon as Jonas saw that he had stepped through the door of the changing room, he pulled a half-heartedly indignant face at him and practically shouted over all the other boys, who were talking amongst each other, saying _“you should have told me that you were going to the cafeteria, I would have asked you to bring me something to eat”._

“I didn’t go to the cafeteria,” Isak informed him, confused as to why his friend would think that, to which Jonas himself quirked an eyebrow in a puzzled manner and indicated to Isak’s bag on the bench next to them.

“Then whose is that?”

There, on the top of his duffle bag, lay a neatly situated carton of chocolate milk. _Isak’s heart skipped a beat._ It could not be, what he thought it was.

_“Thanks,” he shouted after Even’s retreating back, a playful but mostly grateful quirk to his lips by the time the older boy turned around to look at him. “And, just for the record, I prefer chocolate milk.”_

Staring at it for a while longer, Isak took it into his hand and was thankful that his friend was preoccupied with the changing of his clothes to pay him any attention. He noticed there was something stuck to the bottom of the package, so he waited for Jonas to disappear into the showers, and turned the carton around, only to find a post-it note attached to it.

_‘I should know better. I’m still trying to figure it out.’_

 

*

_“Chris,” Isak raised his voice the moment he entered the house, which was buzzing with people and music that was coming from somewhere deeper inside. Although it was considerably loud in the enclosed space, he could still be heard by those closest to him. “Christoffer Schistad, you asshole!”_

_Some of the individuals that were hanging around in the hallway in smaller groups were giving him strange looks, but it was not like Isak gave a damn. They could all go fuck themselves, for all he cared. Without restraint, Isak ventured further into the house, albeit rather sluggishly due to his inebriated state. The funny thing was that he was not completely sure as to why exactly he was there or what his purpose of confronting Chris was in the first place. Would he call him out on his bullshit in front of everyone as soon as the guy made an appearance or plead with him to take him up into one of the bedrooms, so that he could make Isak feel appreciated, make him feel needed and desired, if only for that short period of time. Maybe he could make Isak feel like he had a purpose._

_“Show your fucking face, if you dare.”_

_Three fairly tall blokes, although on the skinnier side, suddenly blocked his way and Isak had to stop to take a better look at their displeased visages. His first impression of them was that even though they appeared a vaguely menacing sight with those sour looks on their faces, they also did not strike Isak as being the brightest of the bunch._

_“I think you’re at the wrong venue, buddy,” said the one on the right, while the one in the middle narrowed his eyes at him. “I’d be very careful about the next words to come out of your mouth.”_

_Isak was just about to tell them exactly how he thought they could ‘shove his next words up their asses’, when a large hand clapped him on the shoulder, the feeling of a figure stepping close to him from behind enveloping him._

_“Guys,” an unknown, unexpectedly deep voice rang out near Isak’s ear. “I’ll take care of this.”_

_All Isak was certain of was that he kept struggling against the arms and hands that were forcing him back where he had come from until they were able to push him across the threshold of the front door, to which Isak stumbled a little to regain his footing. After all, he was very nimble on his feet._

_Trying to get past the guy, who had positioned himself in front of the entrance with the intention of not letting Isak back inside, was not really successful, seeing as he was continuously shoved away. The individual was taller than Isak himself, and his shoulders were awfully broad too. This irked Isak even more so._

_“Why are you hiding, huh?” Isak felt how his throat burned from the yelling aimed particularly at the inanimate dwelling behind the unfamiliar stranger and not anyone in particular, since only the two of them were currently outside the house. “Scared I might say something that will get you into trouble?”_

_“Okay, you really need to back down now,” the guy nudged him backwards, albeit not really forcefully. Perhaps only a warning, but you never knew with these people._

_Mind muddled with fleeting thoughts and feet heavy with additional weight, Isak let himself be pushed away. He felt the sudden urge to sit down, because his world was beginning to spin. Turning away from the other boy, Isak staggered the few steps to the stairs of the front porch and flopped himself down onto the first one, letting his limbs collapse in on themselves without any finesse._

_“You’re a coward, Chris. A real bitch.”_

_The darkness that had settled began to consume him, a miserable feeling spreading throughout his body that was reminding him of how alone he was, how he was just not good enough._

_“Cheating piece of shit.” His voice had lost the irritated edge. It had gotten more hushed than anything else, blown into the night with a shaky sigh, but it was still bitter and loud enough for the other to hear. There was a stinging in his eyes, an announcement of oncoming tears he was unable to stop. “You said I was special, goddammit.”_

_It was nothing less than embarrassing, sitting on the front steps of his ex-lover’s home and crying under the influence of alcohol and his insecurities like a five-year-old. How did he end up here?_

_A shadow cast itself over his form, when someone stepped in front of him, so that they were obstructing the glow of the streetlight illuminating him. By this point, hot tears were freely streaming down his cheeks, soft noises escaping him through his weeping here or there, when he could not help it._

_Two pairs of heels could be heard clacking against the concrete as they drew nearer, unintelligible conversation between two people breaking through the quiet of the night. As the sounds came to an abrupt stop, Isak dared to raise his head in order to identify two girls in relatively revealing outfits and too much make-up peering at him from the side, where they tried to pass by him. Uneasiness was painted all across their faces, troublesome glances thrown in his general direction, but Isak just could not care less._

_“Move on, there’s nothing to see here,” voiced the figure standing before him, and the girls scurried away in an instant, making their way into the house._

_It was only then Isak noticed that the person, who had stepped in front of him, was actually the same guy, who had literally dragged him out of the house minutes beforehand. Despite the darkness, Isak could tell that he had a wide nose and light brown hair that was not really long, but long enough to be falling into his face. He was probably one of those annoying dudes, who continuously flicked his hair back instead of getting a haircut._

_“What, big guy? You don’t want to revel a little in my misery before beating me into a pulp?” The mocking tone of his voice did not fool the other, Isak could tell as much, especially with his swollen eyes and the drying streaks of tears on his face. He probably looked utterly pathetic._

_“It’s William, for starters. Not ‘big guy’,” he quoted oh-so-obviously, crossing his arms while peering down at Isak in a contemplating manner. “And, I don’t know, who you think I am, but I will not beat you into a pulp, and I will certainly not be making fun of someone, who is clearly drunk and suffering from a broken heart.”_

_“Fuck you,” Isak spat at him, scrunching up his face in annoyance._

_Who the fuck did this guy think he was? As he soon realized, apparently someone, who was not easily fazed or offended by Isak’s behaviour as much as the boy thought he would be, because the other just calmly raised his eyebrows at him as a response._

_“I can just drag you back in there and let you deal with those morons, if you’d prefer that?”_

_The question was rhetorical, so Isak did not bother with a reply but merely let his head fall forward and hang between his shoulders in defeat while he let his arms be cradled by his knees._

_“Those are some heavy accusations,” William added a few beats later, less pressing and more curious, as if testing the waters. A good thing the other boy did not know how deep Isak’s waters actually ran. “Chris Schistad does have a girlfriend, you know.”_

_“Yeah, and a bunch of other girls on the side.” Isak did not try to hide the extent of his knowledge on the matter or the hostility in his voice that came with the statement. Maybe he was being a little petty, but Chris was still a douchebag and he deserved it either way._

_“Apparently not only girls.”_

_The sight that greeted Isak, when he raised his head to take another look at the boy, was not one he had expected. Well, so were the words, although the other’s expression told him much more than any words could have. It was not condescending or judgemental, just understanding and without the unnecessary pity, which is why Isak appreciated it that much better. All the more surprising, it filled him with a sense of relief, a certain calm that settled within him._

_William offered him a small smile, before he started to look around the ground near his own feet, searching for something in particular as it appeared. Finally though, he bent down to pick up a rock about the size of a palm from a flower bed arrangement right by the foot of the stairs._

_“You know what I think?” William weighted the specific stone in his hand, which seemed quite heavy by the looks of it. “When it comes to revenge of a scorned lover, sometimes the only remedy is to break something, like literally break something, possibly something that the other person cherishes. It makes one feel a whole lot better.”_

_Isak had no time to ask what he meant by that, because the next thing he knew, William was turning around and zeroing in on a silver Tesla S parked at the curb in front of the house. Now, while Isak had no knowledge of cars, meaning that he had no skill in identifying the model of a car just by looking at it, he could recognize this particular model anywhere. He had ridden in it several times before to know exactly what kind of model it was and who it belonged to. That was Chris’s vehicle, his ‘precious baby’ as he like to call it, and it currently had a rock hurling in its direction. It hit the window on the passenger side, cracking the surface of the glass and creating a decent hole in it before falling to the ground beside it with a dull ‘clunk’._

_Everything happened so fast, Isak barely had the time to acknowledge the situation. The car’s security alarm started producing screeching wails akin to that of a siren, when he got grabbed by the upper arm, pulled off the steps and forced into running. Vaguely, Isak registered that he was being forced into a lot of movement in one night that had nothing to do with dancing._

_William helped him preserve his balance with a steady hand on him, bringing them all the way to the first corner and turning into another street, where they disappeared from the sight of the house. Only then did the other boy slow down and lessen his hold on Isak, which again made him wobble a little to regain his stance. Hopefully, the blaring music inside the house would buy them some time before anyone would notice the damage that had been done._

_“Did you just_ _―_ _?” asked Isak bewildered and kind of disoriented while trying to take in large gulps of air. William was doing much better, seeing as he was only slightly out of breath, which also made it possible for him to laugh. The fucker was actually laughing. “What the fuck? Why did you do that?”_

_He just looked at Isak, grinning from ear to ear like he was immensely enjoying himself, and shrugged his shoulders in one of the most casual ways Isak had ever seen._

_“I hate lying scumbags, who lead people on.”_

_“But, aren’t you one of them?” To say Isak was mildly confused would be an understatement, because he was having immense difficulty with wrapping his head around the events that had transpired for it to make sense. If William was a ‘Penetrator’, why would he have done that?_

_“Not yet, but supposedly I have the potential for it.” William took a glance to the side, tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. When he caught Isak’s gaze again, he was still smiling. “I’m definitely not going to become one now, am I?”_

_So many questions were going through Isak’s mind, from how he got to the point of having the potential for joining the ‘Penetrators’ to how the guy knew Chris’s car, but he just could not bring himself to ask any of them. Would he even want to know? In the end, it did not really matter._

_“Will you be able to get home by yourself, kid?” Isak felt a hand grip his shoulder, to which he raised his eyes to the other, who was evaluating his demeanour all the same._

_“I don’t really want to go home.”_

_All Isak could think of was going back to a place that had become cold and distant, to a mother that did not know what her son was doing or feeling most of the time. A parent, who had isolated herself from her child and did not give a damn about him. Physically she was there, but that was almost all there was to it._

_He most certainly did not want to go back home, especially in the condition he was in._

_“Well, I live in a shared apartment and I don’t think my roommates would mind, if I rented out the couch for a night,” Isak heard William say, as though he was convinced that his offer was a good idea. “Considering the circumstances, Eskild would probably be disappointed in me, if I didn’t.”_

_Isak took a proper look at him, taking in the guy’s physical appearance that featured amongst other things a set of piercing eyes and a strong chin. William was without a doubt a handsome young man, Isak could easily admit that, but he also instantly knew that the other was not someone he would go for at all. While he hoped the sentiment was mutual, Isak had to take the plunge to be sure._

_“Are you trying to hit on me?” Isak asked the inevitable question, which only made the other snort._

_“You’re adorable, but you’re definitely not my type,” he reassured Isak, throwing an arm around his shoulders and stirring him down the street, most probably into the direction of his flat. “Trust me, you’d know, if I was hitting on you.”_

_Fortunately, not only was William not interested in him, but also exclusively into the opposite sex. Eskild, one of William’s roommates, who appeared before Isak in a colourful kimono in the early hours of the next morning, squishing his cheeks between his hands in excitement, was another story altogether. Isak took an instant liking to him, even though the guy was kind of touchy-feely._

_Sat at the kitchen table, Isak watched as William made them all breakfast while Eskild kept walking around the room, talking exaggeratedly and waving a spatula in his hands. He realized that he had not felt this much at home in months._

 

*

_‘Transcendence.’_

The familiarity of the music struck a nerve in his body as he lay face down on the cold floor of the practice room, awaiting his cue to shift into motion. _‘Transcendence: The Orchestral Version.’_ As soon as the melody filtered through the speakers, Isak thought he knew exactly how to categorize it. With an abundant repertoire of the artist’s musical pieces, to which he had even dedicated a whole playlist on his phone, there was no way he would not be able to recognize _Lindsey Stirling’s_ stuff. _Truth be told, the electric violin was his guilty pleasure, when it came to musical instruments._

What surprised him was that professor Almaas chose this particular piece for their number, even though the violin in this rendition of it was classical.

It was not long before Isak felt a delicate hand settle on his shoulder, shaking him awake from his ‘magically induced sleep’. So, _he did what he was supposed to do_. He stretched his limbs and arched his back, overdid his dramatization of the initial shock and his infatuation for the beautiful ballerina, who was already trying to scramble away from him. The music picked up the pace, just as their playful game of catch took its course.

“That’s it.” Isak could hear the professor from the side-lines. “A lively, rounded flow of motion.”

Fast and frivolous, they spun around each other with a faint touch here or there when Isak was able to come close enough to her, on one occasion lifting her for a split of a second before she escaped, trying to get a hold of her as she was about to push him away.

“Listen to the break coming on,” the voice rang out over the melody. “In one, two …”

 _One._ As though struck with a solid blow from the gracious female, even though it was as mild as possible, Isak shoved himself away from her. _Two._ With a quick sequence of steps, he twirled across the floor into the other direction, anticipating an impact that was not about to come, and stopped before another figure in his way. The pace had dropped by this point, the music far more unhurried and profound.

_Three._

Isak looked up into the dancer’s face after almost and deliberately colliding into him, his arms elongated behind him as though he had caught himself just in time, his upper body leaning forward. _Even_. Even, who was looking back at him, eyes trained on his own, while his hands pulled at Isak’s hips to prevent the boy from falling into him, pulled him into himself that much closer. _Isak’s heart was already in his throat._ He could not control it.

“Hold it, _take it in_.” Take _each other_ in.

Take in each other’s features, take in each other’s proximity, _warm and inviting_. Take in the motions swimming in each other’s eyes, everything they wanted but could not say otherwise. Isak could do that, he could _do that well_ , but that did not make it right. They both knew there was no denying it.

_They knew better than to play with fire, but they still did it._

_‘Hi.’_ Even’s eyes told him soundlessly, gingerly as though he was afraid to do it at all, while his hand slid across his stomach as it was supposed to, from one side to the other in a devastatingly prolonged movement. _‘Hi.’_ Isak’s eyes responded, the way his body responded to the other’s touch, a touch that was gentle but held-back all the same, making Isak’s skin prickle and wanting him to break out of it. Every fibre of his being was screaming for him to _touch him back_. To touch and to feel, and to experience all that he so desperately craved. The _‘not being able to’_ was what made it so unbearable.

“Now.”

When Isak tried to get away from the other, turning around in an attempt of fleeing from him to Emma, Even’s hand slithered down his extended arm while he was already distancing himself and gripped his wrist, pulling him right back in, until Isak’s backside was inches away from his front. _So close, but not touching. Not close enough._

“Delayed, hesitant.” The professor’s voice was still with them. “It’s like there’s tension and you can’t explain it.” _Oh, they could explain it alright._ They could explain it in so many ways.

 _Nothing_ in the way Even crowded the bridge of his nose against the lowest part of Isak’s nape as they arched their backs in synchronization and breathed him in was ambiguous. _Nothing_ in the way Isak’s breath hitched or his muscles tensed up, when Even barely even touched him as he bent them lower to the side and nearer to the floor while Isak’s leg lengthened backwards, could be left in doubt about one boy’s feelings for the other.

To the outside world it was nothing more than two dancers, moving in a suggestively sensual manner, because their parts demanded it from them. To _them_ , since Isak hoped it was mutual, it was the only way they could come this close to one another without feeling guilty about it, savouring that time for as short as it was. _They allowed themselves that much._

The music was about to pick up the pace again, which meant that _their_ time was up. Even’s hands ran up to his shoulders, Isak bending his head under his arm as he manoeuvred one of his hands across the span of his shoulders to turn him around. Facing each other again, their right hips almost aligned, Even’s hand descended the length of his torso, coming to rest at the small of his back before pushing him lightly forward and into the other direction, away from himself and Emma. _Their eyes never left each other’s until the very last moment._

By the time Isak realized it was over, the music had already been turned off, some of the former silence returning into the room. _God, this was such a bad idea._

“Fantastic, that one’s a wrap.”  The professor only grinned at them. “Onto the next segment, shall we?”

 

*

 _Oh, thinking about all our younger years_  
_There was only you and me_  
_We were young and wild and free._

 _Now nothing can take you away from me_  
_We've been down that road before_  
_But that's over now_  
_You keep me coming back for more._

 _Baby, you're all that I want_  
_When you're lying here in my arms―_

 

“What have you got there?” When Isak turned around to face him, William was already holding the boy’s phone in his hand after he had unplugged the cable for the in-ear headphones from it, eyes squinting at the illuminated screen. “Bryan Adams?”

This was the result of William deciding to creep up on Isak, while he was in the kitchen, preparing lunch and listening to music. _The prefect prey: unsuspecting and naïve_. A good thing he did not try to scare the crap out of him, because _he did that sometimes._

Even so, Isak was not particularly amused that he got so rudely disturbed mid-song. _You know, he had gotten really into it._ Though, as he took in William’s appearance and noticed the oversized bag at his feet, he was sure that his roommate had probably ventured into the room only to inform him that he was leaving for the weekend. William’s oldest sister was getting married and he was supposed to be her brides- _man_ , much to his dismay.

“It’s just some 80’s music I discovered recently,” he responded a little awkwardly, clearing his throat. _Just some 80’s music, huh?_ Isak thought back to when he got acquainted with the music of that time period, how a certain person’s eyes had glimmered as he talked about it, a radiating smile on his face. He was still able to recall the image as clear as it had been the day it had transpired before him.  

“I know, who _Bryan Adams_ is,” William chuckled, handing the phone back to Isak and leaning against the counter with an inquisitive expression directed at him. “I’m just wondering, since when do _you_ listen to stuff like this?”

 _Since a charming boy, who was the reason I came home crying a week ago, made me fall in love with it._ But, there was no way Isak was about to admit that, especially not to William or Eskild. They were the closest he had to older brothers, and Isak knew such information would not sit well with them. _Older brothers should never find out about their younger sibling’s love interests that went wrong_. _For a lot of reasons._ Although, Isak estimated that Eskild would not be as difficult to deal with regarding the matter as would be William. _No fucking way_.

Just as Isak was about to tell William something in terms of ‘I accidentally stumbled upon it and took a liking to it’, hoping the tone of his voice would not give him away, Eskild appeared at the doorway of the kitchen and interrupted their conversation. _Speaking of the devil_.

“William, your taxi is waiting downstairs.”

“Well, I guess that’s my cue to leave.” Picking up the bag and hoisting it over his shoulder, William threw them both an easy smile and made his way out of the room by squeezing past Eskild in the doorway. “Take care, have a good weekend and don’t let me return to an apartment left in burned down remains.”

Snorting unexpectedly at the comment, Isak tried to cover it up by pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, opting to stifle it as much as possible, but Eskild had heard it anyway and gave him an unimpressed look.

“It had been an accident, _jeez_ ,” he yelled down the hallway to William, seconds before Isak heard the front door open, and rolled his eyes even though the other could not see it. _They were a very peculiar pair._ “Just worry about yourself, okay? And, don’t forget to catch that bouquet for me.”

“Not happening, Eskild.” It was the only response they got, followed by the door falling shut.

As soon as the two of them were left to themselves, Isak took a good look at Eskild and saw that the other boy was dressed to impress as it seemed, with a shiny, dark blue button-up and fancy trousers complementing his hair, which had been styled to perfection. _Impressive, but not unexpected._ Eskild was going out like most Friday evenings.

“You sure, you don’t want to join me for a night of wild, irresponsible partying?” Eskild twiddled a piece of paper or something similar between his fingers, playfully wiggling his eyebrows at Isak. _He had already asked him, but Isak had declined._ “You know, to maybe get …”

 _To maybe get what?_ Isak repeated in his mind, a little unnerved by the possibilities of the implicated sentence that Eskild left hanging unfinished in the air. _Get shit-faced and hook up with a random stranger? Get all of the stress out of my system and stop being so uptight? Get the boy, who I have been pinning after for weeks and weeks, out of my mind?_ On occasion, Isak had come with him but this time he did not feel like it at all. Eskild could have asked him several times but he would not have changed his mind. _He would have just refused him repeatedly_.

“I’m sure, Eskild,” he told him with utter conviction, giving an additional smile for reassurance. _Isak knew the older male was just looking out for him and he was thankful for that_. “You go and have fun. Maybe I’ll join you some other time.”

“You’ll be fine?” Eskild had asked after a pause for much needed contemplation. _He was just worried._

“I’ll be fine.”

About fifteen minutes after Eskild had left the apartment, the doorbell rang.

For a moment, Isak assumed Eskild had forgotten his umbrella and had come back for it due to the rainfall, which began about an hour prior and did not seem like it would stop anytime soon. However, Isak was positive he had seen him leave with one, so either he had returned because he had yet again failed to take his keys with him or because he wanted to convince Isak to come with him anyway, even though Isak had rejected his offer _multiple_ times. The latter option seemed far more likely.

 _For the love of everything that is good,_ Isak groaned internally, already making his way to the front door. _This guy did not know when to give up_. Close enough to know he would be heard through the door, Isak raised his voice and informed the other _‘I told you I am NOT going, Eskild’_ , proceeding to open said door in order to tell him off face to face, would the other continue to try persuading him into going. Although, the instant Isak had managed to pull the door wide open, all possibility of coherent speech left him, flying out of the window and dissolving into thin air, when he recognized the person standing on the other side of it.

 _Even_. There, on the doorstep of his apartment, stood Even, considerably wet from the rain and staring at him a little out of breath and all jittery, but Isak estimated that might have been due to the cold temperatures outside. The clothes he was wearing were far too thin for the weather, the more or less sodden denim jacket not keeping him warm enough. His hair was in disarray, the strands of his curls trickling drops of water onto his shoulders every now and then. Isak became aware of how _unbelievably gorgeous_ he was like this. _Imperfectly beautiful._ It made his heart stutter.

Both of them simply stood there, unmoving and looking at each other more perplexed than anything else, without even saying a single word. To be fair, Isak did not know _what to say_. So many questions were going through his mind at an unimaginable speed, all that he wanted to ask, _all that he wanted to understand_ , but he did not know where to begin or how to begin it. _What was he supposed to say?_

“Even?” He finally settled on one word, _the most important one_ , after finding his voice again. It sounded like he had not used it in a while, which was all the more odd. “What are you doing here? What― Even, you’re all wet. _Why are you all wet?”_

Isak was being surprisingly calm on the outside, compared to the turmoil of thoughts and feelings ragging on inside of him. _What is he doing here?_ Even did not answer any of his questions. He did not even speak for a good minute or so, looking back and forth between Isak and the floor, biting his lower lip in uneasiness.

“I …” He trailed off, as though he was not sure of the words he was about to utter, as though he was looking for the right words, but essentially there were _no right words_. For some reason, Even was refusing to meet his eyes and Isak hated to admit that _it kind of hurt_. Finally, Even seemed to have settled on something he was only partially willing to say, because he squeezed his eyelids together as though in pain and just went for it. _Like ripping off a band aid_. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

 _I can’t stop thinking about you._ Isak’s heart might have actually stopped for a moment. He held his breath, because he was scared his breathing would be the only thing he would be able to hear in his ears, if he would do it. He did not blink, because he was afraid Even would disappear before his eyes like an apparition, if he lost sight of him for only three winks. Isak did not dare to do anything.

_Did he really just say that?_

“I literally can’t stop thinking about you and it’s driving me up the wall.”

Even was still trying to avoid his eyes, pacing from one foot to the other and cracking the knuckles of one hand, which was left hanging by his side. It did not seem like he was even aware he was doing it, as if _on reflex_. The noise it produced could be heard in the otherwise silent stairwell and it did little to calm Isak’s nerves.

“It’s messing with my head and I _can’t stop_ it.” He sounded borderline frustrated, appearing somewhat dazed while he ran a hand through his hair. Even was obviously having a hard time explaining, whatever it was he was attempting to explain. _Isak was not completely sure of it yet._ “It’s like I can’t breathe properly, you know? Like my lungs are too big for my body but at the same time too small to receive enough air. It’s uncomfortable. _Really uncomfortable_ yet exciting, and scary, and _so_ , _so wonderful_ and―”

The second in which Even made eye contact with him, Isak was convinced he had gotten the first proper intake of oxygen into his system since he saw the other boy standing in front of his apartment door. His eyes were wild and innocent, large pools of everything, _everything Isak desired_. Isak felt so small under the scrutiny of the other eyes.

“I feel like I’m eight all over again and you’re my first solo dance recital.”

 _That_.

Beforehand, Isak did not believe a sentence could pull the floor from under his feet like that _ever again_ , that it would be able to knock him right out of his socks, and _absolutely not_ in such a breath-taking, stomach-twisting kind of way. _A good kind._

If anything, that single sentence had literally done it for Isak. _In every way._ Would he not have been head over heels for this boy prior to that, he would have been thereafter. Nothing could accurately express how he felt after hearing Even say it. _Nothing_ , Isak was sure of it.

He could barely find the will to open his mouth and speak, much less come up with words that would suffice for a good response to _that_. _How was he supposed to respond to that?_ Isak had to at least try.

“Even, I―”

“Tell me to leave.” Even had cut him off without another thought, like he was not even bothering to listen to Isak. _Abrupt_ , like a knife cutting through the tension in the space surrounding them.  

“What?” Isak was beyond confused, but at the same time too worked up to show it properly. It did not make a lot of sense. _What was he talking about?_ He was still having a hard time speaking, even more so trying to figure out what Even meant by that. “Tell you to leave?”

The reluctant nod was affirmation enough that Isak had heard him correctly.

“Tell me to leave. _You_ need to tell me to turn around and walk away, because I don’t think I’ll be able to do it on my own account.” Even averted his eyes to the floor, closing them completely as though he was bracing himself for what was to come. _A blow he was not ready to receive, but willing to let happen anyway_. “Tell me to _leave you_ the fuck alone, tell me that you don’t want me to bother you about this ever again _and I will_ , but I need you to tell me. _Tell me that you don’t want me_.”

Watching the confident, charming boy he knew being reduced to a nervous wreck of self-doubt and guilt, floored Isak to the spot. The despair of having to distance himself from Isak, the anxiety of Isak’s rejection buzzing in the tips of his fingers, _Isak felt it also_. Even needed to understand that.

 _Now or never._ This was Isak’s chance to tell Even how he really felt about him. _Properly._

“Even, it’s not that I can’t tell you that,” Isak brought up the courage to declare, clearing his throat so that his words could not be doubted, so that Even could not possibly misunderstand what he was referring to. “I don’t think _I want to_.”

_‘Isak, it’s not that I can’t forget about it,’ Even had said to him a mere two weeks before. ‘I don’t think I want to.’_

The speed with which Even snapped his head up to gape directly at him, this time with something similar to hope swimming in his gentle eyes, was overwhelming. It was there, _as clear as day_. The pressure in Isak’s chest loosened, because Even knew. _Even knew straight away what Isak was trying to tell him_.

“Why is that?” He asked timidly, not able to tear his eyes away from Isak and steeling his breath in anticipation of the other’s answer. If Isak was being honest, _so was he_.

_‘Not when all I’ve wished was to hear you say them,’ Even had told him then, at the foot of his bed._

“I don’t want to, _not when all I’ve wanted_ was to tell you that I can’t stop thinking about you too.”

Which one of them moved first was up to debate, but Isak would continue to claim it had been the both of them. _Both of them, who were just waiting to be able to touch each other, to touch in the way they really desired to touch and to be touched by the other_. As Even stepped across the threshold of the apartment, Isak was already there to meet him with his hands fisting into the sturdy material of the other’s jacket, pulling him against himself and letting their mouths find each other, for their lips to find their way back home. _God_ , Isak had missed the feeling of Even’s lips on his.

Upon first contact, Even’s lips were slightly cold against Isak’s own, but the inside of him mouth was pleasantly warm, causing a stimulating sensation that made Isak moan unexpectedly, all of which was swallowed by the other as their mouths grazed each other, moving quickly and fervently. _With an all-consuming passion_. Even’s hands were immediately on his face, cupping his cheeks with his palms to hold him in place and kiss him _as much as he wanted_. Isak also could not bear it any longer, because he had to get his hands into the other’s hair like he had always dreamt of doing, to card his fingers through his soft curls, even if they were predominantly wet at this point. The feeling he got from it was just as incredible as he gripped the strands of hair in one of his hands.

Their foyer was so narrow that Isak ended up at the wall opposite the door with barely a few steps, urged up against the solid surface as Even pressed himself to his front. Isak touched him through his T-shirt under the jacket, and he clasped his hand around Even’s nape to bring his mouth even closer. Isak _took and took_ , and wanted _to take some more_. Even was there for the taking and Isak wanted all of him.

Tongues brushed impatiently, and both of them tried to sneak a breath in-between the fiery kissing, because they did not want to pull away from each other. So, they panted into each other’s mouths and continued kissing. Isak had to get rid of the material that prevented him from getting to Even’s bare skin, his hands tugging at the jacket and managing to pull it off the top of his shoulders. Even immediately helped him by wriggling out of the piece of clothing until it fell onto the floor with an obtuse thud. _But Isak was not finished_. He ran his hands down Even’s front, across his lean chest all the way down to the hem of his T-shirt and began to drag it upwards. They separated just enough to get it over Even’s head, discarding it like the jacket, and reattached their mouths.

Isak may have sighed in satisfaction the moment he laid his hands flat against the small of Even’s back, where no layer of clothing separated them anymore, gliding them up the boy’s broad backside and feeling the soft surface underneath the pads of his fingers. _Jesus, it was turning him on so much._ He was getting a little lightheaded from all the kissing, all the close contact and heated skin under his hands, and it did not help that he was barely capable of standing upright, when his knees felt like they had turned to jelly. _Even was doing that to him_.

“Even―” Isak was able to speak up once their lips separated. _Shit, this was really doing stuff to him_. He went in for a lungsful of air and almost choked on it, when Even began to leave a trail of open-mouth kisses along his jawline, all the way to the spot beneath his ear, where he sucked hard on the flesh there. “Even, wait.”

 _Even did._ He stopped his ministrations, but did not remove himself from the other, which meant that Isak could hear his laboured breathing against his ear, feel his chest rising and falling in quick succession. _Mirroring his own_. Since they were not attached to Even’s anymore, Isak noticed how his lips tingled from oversensitivity. _Wow._

“I’m sorry,” Even murmured, the sound of his voice a whisper’s touch against his skin that was making the hair on the back of Isak’s neck stand on end. _Not from fright, but from the thrill._ “I’m sorry, I just―”

It seemed that he wanted to apologize for his behaviour, although he never finished his sentence but merely buried his face even deeper into the side of Isak’s neck. _I know_ , thought Isak even though he was not brave enough to say it out loud, because it was a scaring him, so he only tightened his arms around Even a little more. _I just need to be close to you too_.

“I didn’t say stop,” Isak assured the other, when he took Even’s face into both of his hands, cradling it in his palms while gazing straight into the boy’s eyes. He could see _so much_ staring back at him.

Isak did not have to dwell on his intentions, _on where this was leading up to and what it meant_ , because nothing felt as right as just the mere thought of Isak going through with it. _He was sure of it._

“I only meant _not like this_ ,” Isak told him, caressing his cheeks and kissing him again. “ _Not here_.”

Once they managed to get to Isak’s room, after closing the front door and manoeuvring their bodies down the hallway while stealing messy kisses from one another and touching constantly, both of them were riding the high of the passion that had been ignited between them. They were crazy for each other, that much was obvious. Which is why, they would _not even try_ to deny themselves the pleasure, _not then and there._ Although, as much as Isak was in a rush to get them both out of their respective clothes, Even took his time and reined Isak’s nervous haste in. _He savoured it._ Something must have told Even it was _Isak’s first time_ , his first time being with someone _like this_ , without having to ask Isak about it, _without Isak having to tell him that_. Isak was just relieved the other did not balk at the knowledge.

Ultimately, Isak was unbelievably grateful to have waited for someone like Even. _So grateful_ that he could give Even one of his most important firsts, which Chris had not been able to take from him. _He would not change that for the World._ Would he have the chance to do it all over again, the chance to relive his first time with someone else, he would not take it. _It would always be Even._

In the silence of his room, there was no noise except for the little sounds the two of them were able to produce, everything from the rustling of the sheets as Even thrust his hips into Isak to the groans that escaped Isak as he tried to make Even go a little faster, _a little rougher_ , urging him on with the heels of his feet at the back of the other’s thighs. _Even did not let him_. He had taken his time, when he had helped Isak prepare himself, joining him with his own fingers down there and constantly asking him whether _it hurt_ or whether _it felt good_. The same way he was taking his time, when he was already sheathed inside of him while both of them were _beyond_ impatient, pressing delicate pecks to every surface of Isak’s body that he came across. _His hipbone, his clavicle and the corner of his mouth._

Even treated him like he was something incredibly precious, like Isak had given him his body as a gift and he was going to cherish it, _worship it_ because of it. It was not something Isak was used to at all.

The bed creaked under their weight, under their sweaty bodies rocking together to chase the peak of pleasure that was building up within them. It was a strange sensation, weird yet wonderful and  _overpowering_ all of Isak’s senses. _It was like being exposed on a whole new level_ , which was kind of frightening. Isak did not particularly know how to deal with it, so he only whimpered through the electrifying shocks his body was receiving.

“ _Ssshh_ ,” Even whispered into his mouth, with a shortness of breath and their noses touching, while his hips continued to work at a steady pace. _It was driving Isak to the brink of insanity_. “I got you. _It’s okay_.”

It was only when Even took a hold of Isak’s hands, enclosing them into his own and intertwining their fingers together, did Isak allow himself to shed a tear, _a single tear_ that slid quietly down the side of his face. He was embarrassed for crying, so tried to hide it, but Even had still seen the evidence of his shame.

Instead of saying anything or letting Isak feel ashamed for it, Even simply angled his head to kiss the tear away.

“ _I swear,_ I got you.”

 

 _And baby, you're all that I want_  
_When you're lying here in my arms_  
_I'm finding it hard to believe_  
_We're in heaven._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lindsey Stirling – Transcendence (Orchestral Version)  
> Bryan Adams – Heaven (1984)
> 
> Trivia: There is a Norwegian documentary “Ballettguttene” (eng. Ballet Boys), that follows three young boys and their ambitions to get into a dance school such as KHiO in Oslo or The Royal Ballet School in London. The documentary is from 2014 and comes with English subtitles. If anybody is interested, go and have a look at it. ^^
> 
> P.S. Was I being too cheesy? Gosh, I feel like I was. XD


	6. Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, all I can do is sincerely apologize for how long it took me to update the story and hope that the readers of the story are not too mad at me or have lost interest in this story completely. I don’t know what to say. *sigh*
> 
> I have had a hard time managing some recent work and my studies in particular, I also briefly had some minor issues with my health. Apart from that, I also have to take my time with writing. I have to feel that what I’ve written is up to my expectations of what I want it to be, that everything is consistent with what I have written and will write, that I have my facts right and so on. Sometimes it just takes a while to get something from my head to paper the way I want it, and so all of that takes up a lot of time. 
> 
> Anyway, here is the long-awaited update and I hope you like it. ^^ I have altered the initial structure of the chapter, because primarily this should not have ended where it had, but would have continued for an additional segment, which I decided I still need to think through better and would probably go better into the next chapter either way. 
> 
> So, all in all, I really hope you can forgive me for taking so incredibly long with an update and rejoice in the new chapter instead of being mad at me. 
> 
> Other than that, everybody still interested in this story, everybody still reading and following it, I hope you leave me a lovely COMMENT! It really means something to me, all YOUR SUPPORT AND ENTHUSIASM for the story always gets my spirits up. It lets me know that you like what I am doing and that gives me confidence; it inspires me, keeps me focused and going, and gives me the drive to write more. So, comment about everything and anything! I would love to know all of your thoughts on it! ^_^
> 
> Thank you again for all of your lovely comments and support on the previous chapters! ALT ER LOVE! <333

*

_You know how a certain moment can sometimes feel unending?_

A moment, when it seems like everything has slowed down to a complete stop at an agonizingly delayed pace, the time-space continuum ceasing to exist, and the only person aware of it is yourself,  _only you_  and all that surrounds you  _trapped in the everlasting_. That breath-taking moment, when your senses become enhanced and you try to take it all in, despite the trouble you are met with by grasping at the meaning of it. A beautiful never-ending that you wish to embrace for just as long.

 _This was not one of those moments_ , Isak realized.  _But that did not make it any less beautiful._

This was not one of those moments, because it was loud,  _incredibly_ loud due to the absence of noise other than the obtuse sounds that filtered into the room from the street below his bedroom window, and because it was bright,  _so bright_  although they were plunged into the darkness of the night with only the moon’s natural illumination giving them the opportunity to see, to see  _each other_. Because, instead of being surreal and unattainable, this moment was real.

It felt real under his skin, like a throbbing ache in his bones, with the smell of warm humidity hanging in the air.  _An overwhelming feeling in its simplicity_.

“What’s on your mind?”

Even broke the unrelenting silence with one of his subdued whispers while Isak continued to observe them, the way they were both lying face to face on each side of his bed, his flimsy blanket pulled over their bare bodies to scarcely cover only their most intimate of parts, even though they have both seen each other in all their glory, in  _all of_ their nakedness. The tiniest of movements from either of them could be heard, the faintest of noises acknowledged. It was eerily serene and it calmed Isak to a point that he never thought something like this ever could.

 _What was on his mind?_  There was quite a lot, if he was being completely honest with himself, but he did not know whether he should be sharing each and every one of his thoughts with the boy lying opposite of him, as handsome as he always was in Isak’s eyes. Now, _more than ever_.

“I was just wondering, whether this is in a way new to you too,” His voice was careful and a little uncertain, seeing as he was unsure of the question being even remotely suitable in their current situation, after everything that had happened, and because he had absolutely no idea what kind of answer he was expecting to receive. “You know,  _being_ with a guy.”

For the record, Isak knew it was kind of alarming that he had devoted his attention to this issue  _only now_ , but somehow there had never been a good opportunity to ask, never a better time to process such information as it appeared to be while lying blissed out in bed after rolling around in the sheets with a person, whose sexual preference was still a mystery to him. Was Even actually straight and Isak was the exception to the regular subjects of his sexual desire, so to speak _an exception to the rule?_ Maybe he was _pansexual_ and had known that long before even meeting Isak? _Could he be gay and so deep in the closet that he was living a life in denial of his sexuality?_  The possibilities were close to countless, in Isak’s opinion.

“To some extent,” Even eventually answered, all poised and peaceful, after he had taken the time for Isak’s question to sink in completely. “Butthis,me  _wanting_ a person of the same sex, is not an impulsive act on my behalf, if that is what you’re wondering.”

Isak watched as Even’s eyebrows drew together momentarily, the look of slight displeasure at the possible insinuation on the other’s face gone in an instant, before he himself proceeded to nod his head in understanding so that his cheek rubbed lightly against the bedding underneath him. He was undeniably relieved that Even was not new to the feeling of carnal want and all-around desire towards other men, appeased that he himself was not the other boy’s potential experiment for finding that out.  _He did not think he would be able to handle that very well._

“I’m bisexual, to be specific. Sure, I may not be walking around with  _a big, flashy sign_  on my forehead declaring it, but I believe  _and hope_  that I have always been honest about it, when I had to be. Ever since I started to discover my sexuality, the physical aspects of it anyway, I realized quite quickly that my attraction was not limited to exclusively one gender.” The lack of light made it harder to see, but Isak was still able to catch how Even paused in order to think, recognized it in the way his eyes zeroed in on a spot somewhere behind him.

“I was 12 years old, if I’m not mistaken.” He produced this wheezing sound, when he exhaled through his slightly parted teeth, and settled his eyes back onto Isak _, back to looking at him_. “Fortunately for me, my parents raised me with a very open-minded view on the world, so it did not strike me as unnatural to feel this way for both girls and boys.”

Naturally, Isak’s mind forced the image of his own parents onto him, varying between the picture-perfect memory of them, the happy couple that shared countless smiles, and the strangers, who seemed to constantly shout at each other. It was disturbing how he could not decide on either, but let the two perceptions of them blend into one.  _What would his parents have said and how would they have reacted, had Isak told them at the time, when he found it out for himself?_  He could only imagine the restrained disapproval he would have been met with. Well, maybe not by his father. Without a doubt, his father would have made him aware of his disappointment. Isak was certain of it. _One way or another_ , there was no chance he would not have. Been disappointed, that is.

The blessing of knowing that Even did not have to go through something like that made Isak ridiculously grateful, in more aspects than one. It made him feel lighter and a great deal happier to know there were so many young people out there, who did not have to either.  _Everybody deserved that._

“Am I your first?” Isak snuggled a little deeper into the heated softness of the bed, keeping his eyes on Even and watching him for even the slightest reaction, observing even the smallest of twitches in his features. He did not have to specify that he meant ‘ _Am I the first boy you’ve been with like that?_ ’.

Even’s eyes searched the expanse of his entire face, slowly drifting across every inch of it and not even bothering to hide the fact that he was taking his time with just staring at Isak,  _intently and thoroughly_. It made Isak’s insides all hot and bothered, and he loved it.  _Isak loved all the attention Even was showering him with_. The other boy then shifted his gaze to their hands, one from each of their own as they lay outstretched on the bed between them, not touching save for their thumbs that grazed along each other from time to time. Just to savour the feeling of each other’s presence.

After lingering for a good amount of time, Even finally took Isak’s hand into his own and very carefully weaved his fingers through the other’s, playing with them by caressing all the edges and bumps with outmost caution.  _With outmost sincerity_.

“I have had the occasional ‘hook-up’ with other guys before coming together with Sonja, though never anything serious,” Even informed him, and the openness Isak was met with had him hold onto Even’s hand a little stronger, his grip on it a little more insistent. The way he was looking at Isak right in that moment, like he had  _all the answers to the universe_ , meant everything and said everything. _Was everything_. “Most definitely never anything  _like this_ , never  _like with you_. You are new to me, Isak.”

Isak tried to swallow, but there was really no use in doing so, because his throat had gone dry and unresponsive to the feeling of movement, ignorant of his acquired muscle memory. He could not even take a good breath, so he held it in until his lungs hurt from the absence of air, until it numbed him from the inside out.  _How do you respond to something like that?_

All other thoughts aside, it was completely new for Isak too.  _A bunch of newfound feelings that were so much bigger than him_. He had no idea what to do with them, and it did not help hearing Even tell him, this bundle of high-strung nerves and insecurity, that  _‘you are special, Isak’._  He was special, and this time  _it was different_. Isak knew it was different. Because it was Even, who thought he was  _truly special_. That alone made Isak want to take off running, with an unwavering resolve to shake off these unusual sensations, while simultaneously wrapping himself tightly around the gorgeous dancer in his bed and never letting go.

“That’s why I think we need to talk aboutthis.” The soothing swipes of Even’s thumb against his palm grounded Isak while he was busy sorting out the prospects of a  _what if_ plaguing his brain, and they continued to ground him even as Even managed to bring his attention back to himself, a somewhat distressed yet urging tint to his expression.  _An expression of impending doom_ , would Isak be the judge of it.

 _But I’m not ready for that_ , Isak’s voice kept repeating inside his head, over and over again, drowning out all the other stuff previously on his mind.  _Not yet._  Yes, they would definitely have to do that. They would have to talk about whatever line they had overstepped, whatever boundary they had breached and what that meant, but most importantly, where they would go from there. Isak was aware that it was inevitable, still he wanted to delight in the tranquillity of the moment some more, hold onto Even a while longer before the sun would rise and they would have to part for who knows how long _. Maybe for good this time_. After all, you never knew in situations like these, and Isak was not about to put  _all of his hope_  into a wannabe fairy-tale. He did not have much of it to begin with.

“Can’t it wait, though?” He gathered the courage to ask rather dubiously, his voice more timid than he had intended it to be, but he was not about to give in so easily. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

 _I don’t want to ruin this moment,_  is what Isak actually wanted to say, his heart heavy from the words he had to leave unspoken.  _I don’t want us to talk about it, because I don’t want us to put an end to this unresolved issue anytime soon and for you to return to Sonja_. As greedy as his actions might seem, Isak was determined to use any means necessary to prolong the time they still had at their disposal.  _Every second of it_.

Even flashed him a small smile for reassurance, disentangling his hand from Isak’s own, and for a brief second Isak felt the pang of unfounded fear, because he thought the other was going to remove himself completely, that he was going to get out of Isak’s bed, put on his clothes and  _leave him_. Isak immediately wanted to take all of it back, all the words that may have caused Even’s abrupt departure. It turned out his worry had been completely unnecessary, for Even dropped his hand only to bring it to the side of Isak’s face, gently caressing his cheek with long, loving strokes across his skin all the way to the edge of his jaw, until Isak visibly relaxed under the touch.

“Then, what do you want to talk about right now?”

“ _You,_ ” Isak declared unabashedly, suddenly far more confident about his advances than ever before, because Even was there,  _with him_. Because _he wanted to be_. He scooted closer to the other boy, so that there was not as much space between them anymore, and smiled expectantly at him. “Tell me something I don’t know about you. Like, what got you into ballet?”

“What got me into  _ballet_?! You really want to know that?” Even’s laugh bounced off the walls of his room, sending pleasant, oddly comforting vibrations through Isak’s body. He hated to admit it, but  _he was falling in love with Even’s laugh_. Despite Even finding the question an unusual one at this point, doubtful about Isak’s interest for wanting to know that in the first place, Isak did not back down and gave an encouraging nod of the head in answer. He wished to make Even understand that he was genuinely interested _in him_ and what he had to say. _All of it_.

Even seemed to regard him for a few long beats, in which he studied him like he was on the brink of saying something, probably  _something important_ , but ultimately decided against it. _Was it something important?_ His eyes did that thing again, where they flicked to different parts of Isak’s face yet always returned to Isak’s own green _ish_ orbs.  _He truly does have really long eyelashes_ , noted Isak absentmindedly.

“Well, I was an awfully annoying kid. Constantly squeamish and could not stand still for too long, which is why I continually had  _a need to wreak havoc_ ,” Even told him thereafter, looking quite unapologetically mischievous about it. _Of course he would_. “It turned out that the one thing that really made me rein all of that energy in was ballet. I was so infatuated with it that it enabled me to focus on and indulge in it for hours, during which I could ‘ _behave appropriately’_.”

“So, you were quite the troublemaker then?” Isak raised a suggestive eyebrow at him, pursing his lips in amusement, particularly because he found the image of a little, naughty Even utterly adorable. One could not deny that even in the last stage of adolescence, the good-looking dancer still seemed to have a certain playful glint to his eyes. _Always._

“ _Troublemaker_. Yeah, you could say that.” Even smiled some more, now on the border of fun-loving and carefree, while removing his hand from Isak’s skin in the attempt of pretending that he was offended by the other boy’s inexperience to read him. “I’m sorry, but I thought you would have figured out that I’m a special snowflake by now.”

“It should be obvious, since you are  _pretty extra_.” Isak laughed, rearranging himself on the bed until he could rise into a sitting position, an action that caused the blanket to completely uncover him, because  _modesty be damned_. Isak was definitely not one to be shy about being fully exposed in front of another person, since apart from being used to the whole ‘changing room etiquette’, he also appreciated the physique that he was able to acquire with years of dancing. Not to mention that he kind of basked in the way Even’s eyes could not help but skim his body, his gaze descending to his lower regions on their own account. “Which reminds me, how did you know where I live?”

“You told me,” Even admitted, when his eyes made contact with Isak’s again. He was still on his back, lying in Isak’s bed linen, where he would undoubtedly leave behind the faint scent of himself. How he looked so complacent in someone else’s bed, all sated and loose, and  _so startlingly enticing,_  was not something Isak would be able to get used to anytime soon. “Our third group rehearsal, when we managed to go over the estimated time of practice, remember?  _Endre_  failed to say anything and we didn’t notice it until we came into the changing room, where you became notably annoyed, because you apparently promised your roommate to be home, so you could let him into the apartment.”

To be honest, Isak had to strain his brain  _really hard_ , but he was able to remember alright, puzzle piece by puzzle piece progressively forming a bigger picture in his mind. He remembered how he cursed at the time on his phone, realizing he had just missed the tram he intended to take, if he wanted to come home by the time he promised Eskild to be there in order to open the door for him, because  _“that guy always forgets the freaking keys”._  Isak could also recall Even asking him what was wrong, casually inquiring about his address and further options he had in order to get there, to which he answered with something in the lines of  _“I live on Stensberggata Street, so going on foot would take too long and I know nobody, who actually owns a car_.  _I’ll just let the headless idiot know that he’ll have to wait for me. Hopefully, he’ll finally take something from it.”_  At the time, it seemed that specific conversation between them would be forgotten soon after, remaining a short-lived memory between them and fruitless like the hope of Eskild learning something from that incident.

“I do remember, but as far as I know I never told you the exact address.” Isak scrunched up his face in disbelief, wrinkling his forehead in the process and turning to face Even entirely, only to see the other prop himself up on one elbow, so that he could look at Isak better.  _That’s not possible, is it?_  His confusion quickly morphed into one of bewildered curiosity as he watched Even’s delicate features stare back at him.  _He wouldn’t do that_. “Did you by any chance go  _from door to door_ , scanning the intercoms for my name?”

The shame that gradually spread itself across the other’s face was confession enough.  _Fuck, he did do it._   _Stensberggata_ may not actually be a very long street, but  _holy fuck_. Even went out of his way to go to each housing complex, in the freaking rain no less.  _Just to find him_.

“Yeah, now that you say it out loud, it does sound  _a little bit_  exaggerated.” Even seemed hesitant to answer him to begin with, and once he did answer he was wearing this guilty, almost pained expression while biting at the corner of his lower lip in discomfort. Never had Isak seen him this flustered before. “ _Shit._  That was really over the top, wasn’t it? I should have just called you, but I didn’t know―”

Isak was on him in an instant, not even considering the option of allowing Even to explain himself, his hands taking a hold of his face and pressing his mouth to the other’s with sheer urgency and not really that much else, because the manner in which Even was tripping over his words  _all nervous_  was beyond cute and even more irresistible, so much so that Isak intended to kiss all of that doubt off his uncharacteristically pretty lips. _There was no holding back_. Isak would be the first to deny it, because the frenzy of his actions was not something he should be particularly proud of, but  _it was all quite filthy from the start_. His open-mouth kisses, demanding tongue and scraping teeth swallowed the other’s words while he himself was being consumed by the feeling of the other’s mouth trying to keep up with his ministrations, and Isak was glad for it. Glad that he did not have to hear the end of Even’s rationalizations, glad that he did not have to think too much about it or feel the need to reply, because he did not know what nonsense would come out of his mouth, would he attempt to do so. It was making him all fuzzy. Correction,  _Even_  was making him all fuzzy.

Plastering himself to Even’s front, Isak could feel the contours of his naked torso under and against his own body, appreciating the soft tissue and hard muscles, which caused acute heat to swell deep within his belly. _Fuck,_ he was so hot. _In each and every aspect_. Even took him into his arms, held him with purpose and strong hands that helped Isak manoeuvre a leg over his own until he was straddling him, their limbs tangled in a delicious mess. And suddenly,  _out of nowhere_ , Isak had the pressing desire to ride Even, a desire to ride him  _extensively and diligently_  like a good lover would, which made him shiver and buck against the solid form beneath him insistently.

“You’re―”, he managed to pant into Even’s lips, pressing his mouth anoint to the other’s in frantic need a few times more,  _just a little more_ , before backing away far enough to gaze into those deep blue spheres he so adored. “You’re so ridiculously extra, you know that?”

Hooded eyes were watching his every move as Even’s mouth spread out into a lazy yet affectionate grin, his fingers digging into the squishy flesh of Isak’s buttocks with a promise of leaving marks of his fingernails while his shaft grew hard, rubbing teasingly against the inner side of the boy’s upper leg.

“So I’ve heard.”

 

*

_Something was most certainly off._

He could sense it in the _immensely unsettling_ brightness of the morning sun.

When Isak awoke in the early hours of the next day, the alarm clock on his bedside table flashing  _08:15_ , Even was nowhere to be found and neither were any of his clothes for that matter. It seemed that he had left a while ago, because when Isak ran a hand across  _his side_  of the bed it was nothing but cold.  _Cold and empty_.

Still in the middle of shaking off the last remnants of sleep, Isak looked around to see whether Even had left anything behind, be it a note or personal belonging, a simple message on his phone maybe.  _There was nothing._  Nothing except for the feeling of loneliness that began to permeate him, slowly and gradually like water filling a hollow vessel. Isak did not allow himself to dwell too much on it, because he was not supposed to, because it was stupid and senseless.  _What had he been expecting, anyway?_  It was not like he did not know what he was getting himself into. From the very beginning, he was well aware of Even having a girlfriend, more so a girlfriend, who was one of his own dance partners and a fellow student at the academy.  _Someone_  Isak was very much acquainted with. He knew all of that, and  _still_ he could not overcome the temptation that was Even or the strong pull the other boy had on him.

 _There is no excuse now_ , Isak thought as he took a moment to let the cruel realization sink in.  _You have willingly and deliberately slept with someone, who was already taken and that makes you a collaborator in infidelity._   _You are that person now_. That was already a horrible insight in itself, but the saddest part of it all was that Isak could not make himself feel as broken and upset about it as he should have, because he believed that it had been worth it even so. Because he was entirely certain that he would repeatedly take upon himself all the guilt that came with it, if that meant he could be with Even like that ever again.

 _Good God,_ he was such an awful human being for thinking like that. Not to mention  _absolutely pathetic_ for feeling how he felt.

In the hour following his minor epiphany, Isak managed to get out of bed to get dressed and venture into the kitchen to make himself breakfast, because he still  _had to_. Regardless of whether he was hungry or not. Not for the first time, Isak wanted to ‘fuck up his whole regime’ on purpose, just to see what it would be like. What it would be like being  _regular_ , to eat what he would want to and when, to do whatever pleased him in a particular moment, preferably to party and drink all the time and simply be a  _normal teenager_. But as he was pouring milk into the bowl with his muesli, the contents of the dish rising to the brim, he remembered why it was so important to him not to be regular.

It was a surprise to find Eskild joining him in the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed in pyjama pants and a plain T-shirt with a print that read  _“You Had Me At I Hate That Bitch Too”_. He looked a little out of it, which made Isak wonder, when he had come home last night, alternatively and most likely the following day.

“Good morning, ‘Little Miss _Sunshine’,_ ” Isak greeted him, watching as the other sat down at the table opposite of him with a loud thud and cup in hand, already reaching for the pot of freshly brewed coffee, which was only there, because Isak went out of his way to make it. “Or is it  _Tequila Sunrise_  in your case?”

The impassive, ‘resting-bitch-face’ look that Eskild gave him in return pretty much answered his question and Isak might have genuinely smiled down at his bowl of cereal in the process, stirring the bits and pieces around in the milk like they were the most interesting thing in the world. Well, at least he was not boldly grinning straight into the other’s visage. _That would be just rude._

“Do you have to be this cheeky at such an ungodly hour? Ugh _, this is not_  how I raised you,” Eskild grumbled before he took the first sip of his coffee, complete with milk and way too much sugar.

“You didn’t raise me  _at all_ , so technically you don’t have a say in this and I can be as cheeky as I want to be,” Isak countered without a preamble, taking another spoonful of his already soggy meal. That was not really true and both of them were aware of that, because Eskild had probably done more for Isak in the last two years than his actual father managed to do in his 13 years of  _trying to be a decent parent_. “I presume you had fun last night?”

“ _Mhm_ , though it was pretty much the usual.” Eskild took one of the cookies from the plate that had been conveniently placed on his side of the table and devoured it whole. Again, all Isak’s doing _._  He knew his roommate would be craving his ‘sugar high’ and he was considerate enough to make it all the more easy for him to get his hands on it after a night out. “You know how it goes, eager men buying me expensive drinks with weird names while I sporadically jam it out on the dance floor. Too bad I’m trying out the whole  _being-in-a-relationship_  thing.”

With everything that was going on in his  _own little world_  at the time, Isak completely forgot that Eskild was indeed in an exclusive relationship with that one and currently also only guy he invited to their apartment and cooked dinner for. His name was Martin, as his brain graciously reminded him, and the two of them had been briefly introduced before. Isak may not have seen him since, but he seemed nice enough at first glance.  _Hopefully, he actually was_ , because Eskild deserved someone good and reliable for a change. _They all did_. It did not hurt to know that the guy was obviously really smitten with Eskild, seeing as he stayed around even after he had a taste of his roommate’s cooking or whatever the equivalent of that was in his case.

“How’s that going for you?” He decided to ask, and although Eskild merely shrugged his shoulders rather nonchalantly in response, Isak did not miss the way his mouth curled upwards a tiny bit with the motion. Somehow, that filled Isak with a sense of peculiarly pleasant relief.  _Good_   _for him._

“As for last night, I believe I may have had one too many drinks, because by time I achieved to drag my glorious ass back home sometime after midnight, I thought I noticed an unfamiliar pair of shoes in the hallway.” Eskild’s remark was casual and cool, perfectly aloof as he reached for a second cookie, because why not and  _wait what?!_  After hearing and absorbing the essence of the other’s comment, Isak froze in his movements like never before, not to mention that his inability to move thereafter apparently reached a new level, considering that when he did eventually _do something_ with himself all he did was bink rapidly, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks with the spoon still wedged between his lips and his mouth full of cereal. _As though the other would disappear, if he did it long enough._

Not that Eskild noticed any of this.

The other had let that little piece of information slip in a manner that did not imply him being anywhere near suspicious about it, but that did not mean it had not been a shocking revelation for Isak himself, who eventually ended up in a coughing fit, when the food he was in the middle of swallowing got stuck in his throat.  _How did he not think that one through?_  Even though he was an otherwise lazy bum, Eskild was extremely orderly and had an impeccable eye for detail, so he was bound to detect such a minor alteration to their foyer wardrobe sooner or later, even in an inebriated condition.

“An unfamiliar pair of shoes?” Isak got out with a bit of a scratchy voice, a consequence of ingesting too much food at once after it had blocked his airways momentarily. He was observing the other for any sign of sudden awareness or a knowing expression, where  _luckily for him_  there was none. Eskild did not appear to be catching onto anything, waving rather disinterestedly with the baked goodie around in the air instead.

“Weird, isn’t it? Never before have I had problems with alcohol induced hallucinations.”

“Huh, you must have been pretty smashed then.” Isak exhaled around an almost smile, tremendously at ease and for once really thankful for the obliviousness of the guy. Unfortunately, _he could not have been more wrong about him._

“Looks like it.” Isak should have known there was something amiss the moment Eskild put down the cookie in his hand, leaving it untouched next to his half-empty mug of coffee, which was not at all typical for him.  _Eskild lives and breathes for sweet stuff._  After that, he simply looked at Isak somewhat calculatingly and clasped his hands, where he had laid them out onto the table in front of him. “At least that’s what I thought, but then I had to go take a piss at the crack of dawn, and  _lo and behold_  the same imaginary shoes were still there, so I rearranged them neatly into the row with the others, where they disappeared from sometime between then and now.  _Interesting indeed_.”

The relief he had accustomed, all the reassurance and comfort of being convinced Eskild had no intention on digging deeper and thinking there was nothing more to the incident than a mere figment of imagination due to him being intoxicated, abandoned Isak almost immediately.  _So, he was clearly suspicious_. At that point though, Isak did not know to what extent or what it would take to persuade the other with the help of an alternative explanation. Either way,  _the safest choice was to act fast_. Before Eskild would come up with something himself.

“Oh, you know what?” Isak cleared his throat and focused on chewing through the last remains of grains and rolled oats between his teeth, trying not to give away how anxious he was about the possibility of getting found out.  _There was no chance he could just tell him about Even and whatever the two of them had going on._  What he had to do was come forth with something good.  _Good yet believable_. But all in all, it was bound to be a miss and hit situation from the get-go. “Actually, I forgot to tell you that a friend of mine stayed the night and I would have told you beforehand, but it had been more of a last minute call. So,  _my bad_.”

 _That was vague enough_ , guessed Isak as he prepared himself for the response from the other end of the table, steadying his breathing all the while.  _Vague enough, and more importantly not really much of a wild card to not seem plausible_. Fingers crossed, right?

“That makes sense,” Eskild concluded kind of thoughtfully, drumming his fingers against the table’s wooden countertop a few additional times, but sadly that attitude was gone as fast as it had come. It appeared that the other immediately dropped the idea of Isak’s clarification of the incident, looking straight at him and holding his gaze in a manner that told Isak he was not kidding anymore, a manner that told him that the simple matter of unknown shoes in their apartment was not to be taken lightly, for whichever reason. Something about the look in his eyes made Isak understand that the other was  _highly mistrustful_ , when it came to his story. “But then, how come you failed to remember that, when I mentioned the peculiar piece of footwear, and proceeded to deny knowing about it instead? Why decide to feign ignorance? I mean, it’s almost like you wouldn’t want me to know that  _one of your friends_  had slept over or something.”

 _No, this could not be happening_. The comprehension of what was in fact going on hit Isak like a ton of bricks, smacked him right over the head, and he could do very little apart from stare back at Eskild, mouth slightly parted in reminiscence of shock and dread,  _and everything else that fell into those categories_. With a single glimpse, Isak was capable of giving it away, all the emotions of being caught in a lie, but even so Eskild did not seem especially surprised by that and all of a sudden it made a lot more sense.  _He already knows_ , Isak was slowly starting to piece it together and recognizing that he had never stood a chance in the first place.  _He knew from the beginning_. Eskild already knew, saw right through him, the transparent individual that he was, and had only been testing the waters for his initial reaction to it.  _Fucking fuck._

Under the scrutiny of the other’s eyes, assessing and more bothered by the second, Isak failed to say anything in his defence, and considering the circumstances  _he had nothing to respond with_  anyway.  _What was the point of trying to justify himself, if his pretence would not fool the other into believing him?_  So, he kept quiet and still, his ears picking up any sound that stood out in the silence that had befallen their kitchen. Isak did not think the situation could get any worse than it already was, until Eskild followed up with another blow.

“Was it  _that person_?”

“What person?” Isak asked foolishly, thinking fast and racing through all the options that could give him a clue to the specific somebody Eskild was referring to, taking into consideration that he might as well have meant Even.  _He could not have seen him sneak out of the apartment, could he?_  Even so, he would not have a good reason to call him ‘that person’, since he had never before seen Even and Isak had not told him anything about the other boy either.

Eskild understood as much as Isak, that if one of them brought someone back to their apartment to spend the night with, it was a big deal.  _In capital letters_. It was an unspoken verifiable truth that none of them was particularly committable and that they all tended to shy away from relationships, each of them having their own motivations for doing so. Of course Eskild would sense there was something more to that somebody, who stayed overnight with Isak at their apartment.  _He quickly put two and two together_.

“The one, who you came home crying over.” Eskild revealed his assumption with a tone that echoed with growing sadness and compassion, a hint of disappointment in his voice and an expression that Isak wanted to shield himself from. In the end, he refrained from doing it, because he vowed to not feel ashamed for what he had shared with Even. It had felt _all too right_ to ever feel ashamed for it. “Isak, are you setting yourself up for heartbreak again?”

 _Okay, wow_. Isak may not have visibly flinched at the accusing words, but the blood inside his veins had run cold in a flash. The uneasiness of being confronted by his roommate was suddenly replaced with a strong feeling of irritability. While Eskild may have been made familiar with Isak’s past luck, when it came to a certain guy, who broke his heart, he had  _no right_  to judge him for developing feelings for someone, whose involvement with someone else put the both of them in a difficult position.  _No fucking right whatsoever_. Not without being aware of their exact predicament.

“No.  _No_ , I am not.” The spoon in his hand hit the side of the essentially empty ceramic bowl with a resounding clank, while Isak’s eyes refused to waver from where they were fixated on Eskild’s unmoving figure. He glared back at the other challengingly, his guard up and defensive, and his voice _so distant_ to his own ears that he almost felt sorry for his rebuttal, but he could not help it. “Besides, it’s really none of your business, Eskild.”

“That may be true, but you can’t blame me for being worried about you.”

“Why do you feel the need to constantly worry about me?” Isak demanded, louder this time, and stood up so quickly that his chair produced a screeching noise, when it scrapped across the floor from the force of his move. He grabbed the dishes and carried them to the sink, but not once did he attempt another look at his roommate while doing so. _Ignorance_ is what it was. _Pure ignorance_. “I’m  _perfectly fine_.”

“Yes, I know. You’re  _always fine_ , Isak. That’s why I worry about you,” Eskild’s soft yet obviously a little aggravated voice spoke up behind him, the spray of water under which he washed the bowl dulling the volume of the sound until he eventually closed off the tap. “There is absolutely nothing _fine_  with letting a guy walk all over you.”

“Walk  _all over me_? Are you being serious right now?” _For heaven’s sake_ , Isak could not believe what he was hearing, all the outrageous things that were coming out of Eskild’s mouth right then and there. Placing the kitchenware items onto the drying rack more forcefully than he should have, Isak turned around, agitated and hurt by the audacity of the other. 

 _Is this really what he thinks about me?_   _Is this the impression he has of me?_

“Let’s make one thing clear.  _No one_ is walking all over me.” He pointed an accusing finger in Eskild’s direction, his face a mixture of betrayal and anger he never thought he would need to aim at one of the few people he trusted the most. “And, don’t you think I can make those decisions for myself? I am not a helpless child.”

“I just don’t want some asshole to take advantage of you again.” Although Isak could definitely see the sadness that basically radiated from the other, he could not give a rat’s ass about it under the light of their current discourse.  _He was seething_ , and not even Eskild’s resigned and sympathetic appearance made Isak want to calm down. Instead, he wanted to be loud to the point of screaming and  _fucking tell_  his roommate to  _go screw himself_. So, he did it. The screaming part at least.

“You don’t know shit, okay?!  _He_  would never take advantage of me!” He saw the way Eskild recoiled at the words, due to the severity with which Isak had obviously defended  _him_ , even though Eskild did not know, who exactly he was. It did not matter, who he was. What mattered was how Isak immediately came to his defence and, to be honest, that was alarming in itself. But it was out now, so  _Isak just went with it_. He could not think clearly anymore, so why try to be subtle about it. Being upset and embarrassed was one thing, but feeling like the other pitied him was _so much worse_. The unexpected need to not only defend himself, but also Even and whatever it was they had, felt incredibly strong. “It may be complicated, but I know he would never purposefully do that. He’s different,  _this_  is different. So, I suggest you stay out of it and let me deal with it on my own, okay?”

As soon as he had said it, even if it was in the spur of the moment, where his voice turned into an echo of a tremble on the last syllables, Isak was already moving, his feet taking him in the direction of the doorway to the hall. This was it for him,  _end of discussion_. He had no intention to carry on with their conversation any further. _Period._ Not even the calls of his name, pleading and void of frustration, succeeded in stopping Isak from storming out of their kitchen to weave his way down the corridor to his room. Slamming the door shut behind him, he deposited his weight onto it for additional support and good measure, heaving weak breaths and on the verge of crying.  _Fuck him._  He balled his hands into fist so hard it hurt his joints and he could shift the pain in his chest towards the pain in his limbs.  _He has no right to judge me like that_.

Essentially, Isak knew that it was not about Eskild at all, but about the nagging doubts he was harbouring himself, all the disheartening speculations he was trying not to give into, because he desperately wanted to believe that  _Even was different_. That  _what they had_ was different. For the most part that did not seem to be working well, since it was apparently making him lose his bearings, leading him to drop his composure at the slightest mention of it being just _a love-drunk dream of the naive_.

There was no point in beating around the bush anymore. It was clear that a part of him was still consumed by unrelenting mistrust, because he had been burnt. Because he had been set aflame and left to burn, left to carry the wounds of the aftermath around with him as a reminder that people should not be trusted easily.

After combing his fingers through his hair in an attempt of grounding himself by pulling ruthlessly at his own strands, Isak grabbed his phone from where it was situated on the chest of drawers next to his bed in order to check, if there was anything there.  _Still nothing_. Still no sign of the _long-awaited hope on the horizon_. The tears in his eyes made it difficult for him to keep on staring at the screen, but he did it anyway, opening up another message conversation and starting to type on impulse. When he was done, he sent the newly written message and flung the phone onto his bed, inclining his head back against the wooden surface to take another minute and maybe finally  _calm the fuck down_.

_‘You don’t know this, but I was fourteen, when I fell in love for the first time. It was a boy, as you may assume. A boy, who took my heart, used it to his liking and tore it to shreds. I was alone and only fourteen years old, mom. Where were you to tell me I deserve better and that it would all be alright?’_

 

*

_As much as he had tried to run away from it, there appeared to be no escape._

After all this time it had come back to him, the uncomfortable feeling that loomed over him right at the edge of his sanity, but prominent enough to stress him out and make him weary.  _The need to scratch his skin until it became stark red and sensitive to the touch_ , even if that would do little to ease his anxiety and the tension in his shoulders _. A far too visible mark left on his body_.

Avoiding talking to Eskild for the remainder of that weekend was easy enough, since the other did not try to bring up the topic of their conversation again or even speak to him apart from the general small talk, which Isak knew annoyed the other as much as it annoyed him, and that is why Isak was also positively sure that he did not pass the information he acquired onto William either. William did not make a big deal out of it yet, so he probably did not know anything. _Good_ , because he did not need another smartass trying to lecture him about his love life.  _Not like he would be lectured_. Deep down, Isak was convinced Eskild only meant well _, always meant only well for him_ , which is why he did feel a bit apologetic for how he had raised his voice at him, but his bruised ego would not allow him to dwell too much on it.

“You’re next, Isak.” Ms Ellefsen swung her hand in a lenient, flowing motion across the length of the room, her eyes on Isak once they left the previous student, who had finished with his final dance step and held his position on the other side of the dance floor. “ _Go_. In  _one, two_ ―”

Cracking his neck one more time in each direction, Isak took three steps forward and brought himself into the starting position, heels at the centre of his body and both feet firmly on the ground, where they were turned outwards. He had his arms in a light arch along the span of his torso before he went into  _a croisé devant_ , raising one arm high above his head and stretching the other out on the side, a leg elongated into a  _pointé_  in front of him.

The music had a rather calming effect, specifically due to it being more of an  _andante moderato_ , or it should have been at least. Normally, it would have completely enveloped him, cradled him without a care outside the movements he created around the melody that presented itself to him. This time that was not the case.  _He tried to do it._ He really did, but the void the music should have filled up entirely was already halfway occupied by thoughts that should not have a place in his mind during dancing at all.

_Thoughts of haunting memories that let him know how much he was still not over it._

Once he had moved onto a _pas de bourrée_ , he was still firmly assured that he would be able to shake it off in a matter of a single second or two, his feet sidestepping into the left and right accordingly, from  _pointé_  to a flat position on the ground, all of it executed with a light skip in his stride. But as it turned out, those instincts had been misguiding. _He could not shake it off that easily_.

 

―  _“Can you for even a second consider how I feel about this? How I feel, when I hear my co-workers brag about their sons, who got accepted into a football or hockey team, and all I can do is clap them on the shoulder and congratulate them?”_

_Isak remembered his 11-year-old self hiding in the hallway, backed-up against the wall, and listening in on his parents’ heated conversation inside the living room, the way he had held his breath to not make a sound while the booming voice of his father resonated within the house. “How I cannot say anything about my own child, when they ask about him in return, because I am ashamed?”_

_“There is nothing shameful about our son dancing ballet, Terje.” His mother’s steadfast retort and how she had proclaimed her unconditional faith in him did not help deter him from the knowledge of his father being ashamed of him._  ―

One step forward into a  _demi-plié_ , his right leg drew a semicircle across the floor from the back to the front until it came all the way around and he was able to do a full turn, keeping his arms secure in the height of his chest, his posture  _upright and graceful_. At least he hoped it was, since the professor had not pointed it out to him.  _Brief pause_ , followed by the same set of steps in reverse, the other leg doing a semicircle from front to back the other way around.

All the blurred images and sounds inside his head managed to do was to keep throwing insults at him, echoing in the confined space of his head and ringing in his ears. Reminding him of his flaws.   _All the doubts, all the ache for approval_. Why was it so difficult for him to be acknowledged?

 

―  _“Do you want him to grow up like this? A prissy and ridiculous ballet dancer?” Isak had flinched at the resentment in the words, unmistakable and dripping with regret. The regret of a father letting his son take dancing classes in the first place._

 _“Yes. This is what he wants, so we should be supportive about it. He is our little boy and he is perfect just the way he is.” To this day, he was still affected by the pressing conflict of whether he should have felt more beaten-down by his father’s opinion or more thankful for his mother’s unwavering confidence. Still no answer._  ―

 

The tempo picked up into an  _allegretto_ , almost at the breaking point to a  _vivace_ , so Isak did not overthink it and decided on a familiar  _petite allegro_ , starting it off with a  _glissade jeté_.  _One. Two. Three_ quick jumps, where he brought his straightened legs together in each mid-jump, muscles straining in the position they had to be locked-up in. It included a  _pas de chat_ , a high leap into the air, where he pulled his legs up and bent them inwards one after the other before landing safely back on the ground.

His movements might have been lively and light, but his heart was burdened with unresolved guilt and disappointment.  _Heavy from the insecurity,_ all of the insecurity he had wished to bury. A sense of  _unworthiness_  weighing him down and making him feel like it was harder for him to move, when in reality he could do it just fine. It was all _inside his head_.

 

―  _“Why are you being so dramatic all of a sudden, Isak?” Chris had been irked, his eyebrows scrunched up in displeasure during the process of pulling a cigarette out of its box. “For fuck’s sake, you are such a child. Did you really think that there could ever be something more between us than just the occasional and convenient physical relief?”_

_As soon as he had confronted Chris about the shitty thing he had done, Isak had wished the other boy would try to explain himself or justify his behaviour, perhaps even tell him that he had decided to break up with his girlfriend for him. How ignorant of him. Looking back at it now, it was all merely empty wistful thinking on his part, which he was holding onto like the last remnants of hope, all of which had been crushed inevitably._

_All of that discouragement and agony must have shown, had to have been full on display for Chris to see and Isak hated that he had gained the pleasure of witnessing it._

_“Fucking Hell, you actually did.”_  ―

 

Coordinating the obscure pictures and perceptions that took turns inside his head and decisions based on his dancing was not as easy as the initial idea of it implied, the conscious part of his brain coming to his aid and recommending him to follow up with an  _a la seconde_ , or several of them to be more precise, strung together in a fluid sequence of agile steps. With a straightened back, he whirled his outstretched working leg around in a circular motion by the force of his spins, centered in the supportive leg. This was what he did, what  _he could always do_. Pirouette after pirouette.  _After another pirouette_. Mindless spinning in circles until the fogginess in his head would begin to tune out everything else.

This was his go-to solution, his _uncanny salvation to every pressing struggle_ he had to deal with.

He should have paid more attention after figuring out that he was not able to hear professor Ellefsen anymore, or anyone else for that matter. There was nothing except for the music and a few dull sounds that his ears vaguely distinguished from somewhere in the background. Only noisy voices telling him that  _he was just not worth it_ , that he would  _never be worth it_.

Isak realized he was going way too fast, spiralling a tad more aggressively than he should have, but he could not stop.  _He could not stop himself._

 

―  _“You’re so beautiful,” Even had breathed into his skin, hot air against the sensitive, sweat-covered surface and full lips leaving their imprint on him, all of which had made the presence of the other boy so much more profound, so much more out-of-this-world. Isak had moaned at the words against his better judgement, words that he wanted to write into the stars one day, so that everyone would see. So that he would be able to see and remember. Even’s words._

_Nuzzling into Even’s damp hair, messy from when Isak had run his fingers through it, he had tried to ignore the deep ache in his body and do everything to catch his breath, which was coming out shallow and short due to the vigour he kept fucking himself on Even’s cock with. It had been fast and desperate, skin slippery under his hands, which fumbled for purchase on Even’s back as he grinded his hips against the other’s own._

_“Everything about you is so fucking beautiful, Isak.”_  ―

 

A specific turn was too sharp and his arms jerked, falling a little behind with his body, which resulted in him losing his footing and stumbling to the ground rather unceremoniously, but at least he managed to cushion his fall with the help of his arms. Isak was not going to lie, the fall itself had been quite painful, and the cold, polished floor was a harsh wake-up call under the clammy palms of his hands, an intense contrast to his over-exaggerated breathing.  _Shit._  He had really done it this time.

“I’m fine,” Isak announced to no one in particular, leaning his weight onto his hands and forearms to help remove the upper part of himself from his position on the floor. Ms Ellefsen was by his side in a matter of seconds, a gentle touch to his shoulder blade in order to see, whether he got seriously hurt. That would have been _the cherry on top_ of everything else that was going wrong in his life at the time. Luckily, there was no damage apart from his slightly chaffed palms and _a very injured pride_. “Everything’s good. Just got a little carried away there.”

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

She was looking at him, full of sympathy and understanding, which Isak did not believe he deserved. Maybe, he was just plainly obvious with the inner strife of his everyday problems or maybe, she had an idea of how Isak liked to cope with stress in his life and channel it into his dancing. Either way,  _it was still there_ , in her face and looking relentlessly back at him. The knowledge of a distracted dancer.

There was no need for a reply, so Isak chose not to give her one. The lack of a response and a head hung in humiliation was still confirmation enough. For her, for Isak. For the _general truth_. The week had just begun, and Isak felt like it would only be getting worse from there on. _He was so fucked_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was ‘kind of’ revealed that Even is apparently pansexual in the series itself, but I have planned out this story before that information was released, so Even will remain bisexual for the sake of the storyline in this story.
> 
>    
> P.S. I don’t know how I feel about this chapter. I think that there’s something missing or that it’s just not good enough. I don’t know. What do you guys think?  
> P.S.S. How much angst is too much? Ugh, I can’t. >_<
> 
> FUN FACT: some of you might not know this, but the title of the story is taken from the second part of one of Friedrich Nietzsche’s quotes “And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” The title was chosen for a reason, seeing as there is an important figurative meaning behind the words. ;)


	7. The Restless and The Reckless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one thing that I don't like making: empty promises. 
> 
> That’s why I am always careful about the promises I make, because I don’t want to let people down. I don’t want to disappoint people, who have laid a certain amount of trust in me, and maybe that’s sometimes a thing I think too much about. I promised to continue this story, because I was fully convinced with my promise to continue the story, and that is also what I intend to do. I intend to do my best in continuing the story, even if it will take some time, and hopefully bring it to an end in due time.
> 
> I am sorry that it took so long for another update, I am sorry you had to wait so long without knowing what would happen with the story. I am sorry and I apologize to you and to myself, because it’s also myself I have to apologize to. Some of you might have given up on the story, some of you might still be harbouring hope for it, and I can only hope that many of you are still interested in reading the continuation of this story. 
> 
> This past year has been one of the toughest ones in recent years for me, due to several reasons concerning myself and my health, my struggles and especially my inner demons, and I have had a hard time trying to find my place in the world. I’m still trying to figure that out. Sometimes it’s quite difficult to wrap my head around everything and not lose myself along the way. But I am doing a lot better, and I am trying to do even better, because I want to be better and I want to be happy with myself.
> 
> According to Winston Churchill, you should “never give up on something that you can’t go a day without thinking about”, and trust me, not a day goes by without me in one way or another thinking about writing, thinking about the concept of storytelling and the creation of plotlines. There were also few days that I went without thinking about this story in particular and how I left it, feeling bad about how I could not go forward with it for the time being, but I hope I can do that now. 
> 
> Thank you to all the readers, who kept up with the story and did not give up on it. Thank you for giving it your love and support, thank you for your lovely comments and encouraging words. I could not have come so far without them. Your support and love always get my spirits up, let me know that you like what I am doing and give me more confidence. THANK YOU SO MUCH.
> 
> Anyway, here is the truly long-awaited update, which I really hope you’ll like (I don’t know what to think about this chapter in particular, because it’s been in the writing process for so long and gone through so many changes, which makes me kind of sceptical). I would really appreciate it, if you left me comments to tell me what you think about it or how you feel about it and everything else you can come up with. 
> 
> I’m looking forward to it. All the love. <3

*

“Guys, I’m telling you. She was definitely _all over me_ , and I would have gotten laid, if it weren’t for that pretentious douchebag with his fancy dress shirt.”

Magnus was surprisingly, or _unsurprisingly_ since it depends on how you take it, sure of himself about the events that went down last Friday night, however neither of the two other boys at the table, who were actually listening in, seemed like they would be swayed by his personal account of the supposed, very potential _almost_ sexual encounter anytime soon, particularly Mahdi, who grimaced visibly at the final words that came out of Magnus’s mouth.

“From where I was standing, it didn’t look like she was _all that_ into you.”

Horrible as it may sound, Isak did not have it in him to care about either perspective.

As much as he believed that he was a pretty decent friend most of the time, he had to admit that he occasionally struggled to cope with some of the trivial discussions about hooking up with girls, the topic of _hot babes_ unfortunately being a reoccurring one for his three friends, and rightly so. Hormones, youth and _all that jazz_. He understood very well what game they were playing, a game of amiable competition with an eagerness for approval amongst predominantly male friends in their adolescent years. So, he definitely understood. The only problem was that Isak did not have anyone to compete with. _Not really_ , at least.

Then again, most of the credit for this prevalent subject matter definitely went to Magnus, who was still pretty much a virgin and largely inexperienced in the intimacy department with another person, which is also a _tiny little bit_ why Isak was able to comprehend his extreme urge and fascination for it. Even though he had been sexually active for more than three years at present, Isak himself had remained, for the lack of better words, a virgin in regards to the final stage of the sexual act up until four days ago, when he left what he considered ‘the last part’ of his virginity behind, a clear reminder of it haunting him throughout the weekend with a withdrawing ache in his lower back and fading, colourful bruises imprinted in his skin from the pressure of deft fingers. _That_ , as well as the distinct feeling of suffocating anguish, a feeling of discomfort from what could only be described as barbed wire that enclosed his lungs and heart in a cage of spikes, stinging in the manner of small needle pricks, when he tried to breathe too deep or _feel too much_.

_Whatever_ , it did not matter. The point was that there was a difference between Magnus and him.

“Bullshit, she was more than ready to go home with me and seal the deal,” Magnus retorted indignantly, impaling his fork into one of his baked potatoes resting on his plate and bringing it to his mouth.

_A significant difference,_ actually. Although very good friends, the two of them were essentially polar opposites, all the more so in terms of sexual prowess. Magnus was in a hurry to completely end his virginity and dry spell period, not to mention that he was for some reason always _needy as fuck_. Contrary to that, even though Isak had been deliberately waiting for that final leap due to deep-rooted trust issues, he never felt a need to rush into it like Magnus did. Even before Chris or in the time that he spent with him, he did not look at it as a goal that he desperately had to accomplish. It came on its own, and Isak just went with it.

Maybe that had been the mistake in the first place. For him to _just go with it_.

That certainly did not mean that he failed to cherish the experience in itself as something special one should share with somebody they hold close to heart, which is why he was so much more at ease that he had not taken the ultimate plunge with Christoffer. _The boy had taken enough from him as it was._

After the fiasco that was their ‘fleeting romance’, Isak decided to wait for a particular someone, who would at least take _that part of him_ with a degree of calculated care and the weight that came with it, and while he was confident Even went about it in such a way, that he had _felt the same_ , he was not entirely sure that he had not altogether let himself fall into another disappointment, into _another heartbreak_.

“Seal the deal?” Jonas gave Magnus this ridiculous, kind of perplexed look from across the table, huffing out a breath that mixed with his ever growing amusement. “Dude, you’re making sex sound like a business transaction.”

“Let’s face it, for him it probably would have been one. I’m not completely sure what the girl would have gotten out of it, though.” Mahdi chuckled, mouth stretching wide until his pearly white teeth came into view. The teasing prompted Jonas to join in with a laugh of his own as Magnus spluttered in offence, but Isak barely even threw an approximation of a smile in their general direction, looking up at them for a brief moment before setting his eyes on the food in front of him again _._

“Screw you too. I had her _willing and wanting_.”

It was Tuesday. _Fucking_ Tuesday and still no text, no call. _No sign of Even anywhere_. By all means, the possibility of seeing Even around the academy was relatively small and Isak knew as much, because the boy in question was not required to take all the classes of a regular third-year, but he had still kind of _borderline vehemently_ hoped he would somehow, at one point or another, run into him by accident, when the other would be going to or from one of his practices, since it looked like Even was not even remotely trying to get in contact with him.

Okay, _let’s be honest_. That might sound a bit hypocritical coming from him, because he _could have_ come in contact with the other himself, could have called or texted, but Isak was also aware that he was too proud to go to such lengths in this respective weird-case scenario of theirs, too scared of making it obvious, his heart out and bleeding, _and right there_ in the middle of it an open gash that would be able to tell more than any number of words ever could.

What exactly would Even be able to offer him? Isak was not even remotely sure about the answer to that question, which is why he did not want to be _that guy_. That one guy, who continues to hang onto the belief of his desire’s affections being reciprocated one day, even when it is painfully blatant that there is nothing to be reciprocated. Sitting there like an idiot stuck in the current present, Isak wondered _why he always had to find himself in the crossfire._

Could he not be someone’s priority for once?

_That’s all it really was_ , Tuesday. _Fucking, pain-in-the-ass_ Tuesday and Isak was seated with the boys at a table in the cafeteria, where they were eating lunch and talking about things Isak could give _zero fucks_ about while feeling as though his life was falling apart at his feet all over again. He tried, as had been previously acknowledged, but he ended up barely even tuning in on the conversation of the other three boys while pushing his food around the plate, pretending to eat it more than actually eating it. It hurt and it sucked. _It just made him feel defeated_.

Somewhere in the background of all the noise, Isak caught wind of a song through the throng of unintelligible chatter, meticulously filling the space of the large room with subdued tones, very likely from the overhead speakers on the walls at the far corners. He picked up on the lyrics and recognized the song almost immediately, the words too familiar to be confused with those of another in retrospect of some modern cover of the 1986’s original by _Cutting Crew_ , even if the style was entirely different from the rock vibe that he became familiar with. It was one of his favourites after all.

 

_I should have walked away,_

_I should have walked away._

Lately, this was all that he seemed to listen to courtesy of Even, his stupid _appealing_ face, gentle demeanour and decent taste in music, which had sneakily but surely seeped into his system. He would never come to hate it, _not even for a second_ , and he would also never associate it with anything else but Even.

“I hate to break it to you, but she had her eyes set on the _pretentious douchebag_ _with the fancy shirt_ all along. It seems like you were just an easy means for his attention.”

There was nothing mocking or teasing to be found in the tone of Mahdi’s voice anymore, and when Isak raised his head to search his face, it looked exactly as he imagined it would. Mainly apologetic, with a fair amount of sympathy for their good friend, who continuously stumbled across misfortunes in regards to the opposite sex. Magnus was an oblivious individual for the most part, but he was also one of the nicest and most supportive people Isak or any of them knew. And he tried, _good God_ did he try.

Contrary to his general unawareness, Magnus quickly realized Mahdi was actually attempting to be honest with him, which is why it was even more unpleasant to watch his face morph with the truth of it, or at least what Isak and Jonas believed to be the truth, since they had not been with the other two, when it had happened.

“At this rate, I’m never going to have sex.” Magnus heaved a long-lasting sigh, his eyes downcast to avoid looking at any of them, and Isak saw the action for what it was. _Embarrassment_ , but if you looked close enough there was also _a hint of disappointment_.

“Trust me. You’re going to have sex one day, so don’t go overthinking it too much.” Isak surprised even himself, when he suddenly and unpredictably joined in on the on-going conversation, his voice resolute while it offered the other boy a few words of consolation, a _few simple words_ that came from the heart. Isak knew what he was talking about and Magnus clearly deserved some elementary reassurance to let him know that _this is not it, this is not all that is to it_. After he had digested what had been said, Magnus threw an appreciative smile his way, and Isak was happy to recognize that he had done something right for once. _Just once was enough._ “Take it chill, and you’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, forget about that chick. She wasn’t worth your time anyway,” added Jonas as an afterthought and gave Magnus an encouraging nod across the table, which restored some of his courage in the process. He never lingered too long on dead-end thoughts and Isak kind of envied him for it.

_That’s just how it is_ , thought Isak solemnly. The majority of one’s life is made up of moments _like this_. Small yet collectible, and that is a particularly good thing. It keeps you grounded and feeling fulfilled for the most part. On the other hand, life also has this weird tendency of creeping up on you in such moments, possessing a peculiar humour for messing with your head, and in most cases that makes a person decidedly uncomfortable. Isak realized it made him feel the same, when _right then and right there_ one of those moments decided to ambush him, as it is customary after you let your guard down.

Murphy’s Law _or something_ , Isak did not know a better way of defining it. The cosmos, the theory of cause and effect. _Everything really_.

Somewhere between being partially pleased with himself while peering over the table at Magnus’s smiling face and listening to him telling them more about what had happened at the party he and Mahdi had gone to, Isak almost missed the familiar silhouette that materialized at the entrance of the cafeteria, but he caught sight of its owner soon enough anyway. _It was a given_ , because someone out there had it in for him. The bodily response was instantly in effect. His heartbeat stuttered to a fleeting standstill, accompanied by a weird, tingling sensation of nausea and misery, sadly maybe even a small amount of idle contempt, his figure rigid as his eyes followed the individual, who had just stepped into the room.

_Sonja_. Dressed in light, form-fitting clothes that could easily be mistaken for her dance attire, Isak hated to admit that she appeared _just as beautiful_ , every time unmistakably beautiful. Her short hair neatly framed the soft features of her small face and perky ears, where a set of gold hoop-earrings dangled, her dainty hands clutching the bag slung over her shoulder close to her body as her hips swayed with each of her steps. He had said it before and he would say it again. Sonja was an _incredibly_ stunning young woman and at the slightest, minimal ounce of Isak being attracted to the opposite sex, he had a hunch that she would undoubtedly be the first on his list. Apart from her beauty, there was something about her that alluded to strength of character and vivaciousness, but also security and warmth. It was irritating, in a way.

_Why on Earth would Even even consider him as the object of his desire?_ It was one question that kept bothering him time and again during all of this. _Why him, when he had someone like her?_

The more he looked at Sonja and took in her appearance, the more _he got to know her_ , Isak came to an understanding of how stupid it was of him to think that he ever stood a chance against the girl. He could never live up to her, and Even surely knew that as well. Whatever he promised, whatever he said he _felt for him_ , Even would never choose him over her.

“Poor girl, am I right?” Mahdi’s voice broke him out of his trance, causing him to avert his eyes from the female dancer to his friend siting opposite of him, watching the side of his face as he stared into the same direction Isak had been staring only a second prior, his eyes glued to the delicate woman, who was weaving her way through the tables. “I can only imagine how much it must suck.”

“What do you mean?” Isak asked on reflex. Or _perseverance_ , he was not so sure which one it was anymore, although the eagerness was consistently there. Even in that moment, when he jumped at the prospect of newfound information far too quickly than he should have, but he had this irritating urge he needed to soothe, so everything else was not really important. Isak had no idea Mahdi even knew Sonja, at least not like he himself knew her.

“You haven’t heard?” Mahdi settled his eyes back on Isak before glancing over to Jonas and momentarily also in Magnus’s direction, his look searching in an inquisitive manner for something he could not put his finger on while gesturing with his thumb at Magnus. “Apparently, this guy’s _power couple_ is not much of a couple anymore.”

“What?” Isak heard himself speak, his voice suddenly so quiet it could have easily passed for a whisper, distant to the point where he could barely even recognize it. Though it did not appear any of them noticed anything, which was possibly the best thing Isak could have asked for, considering he was freaking _the fuck_ out internally. “Where have you heard that?”

Was Mahdi saying what Isak thought he was saying?

Isak tried to convince himself that he _must not_ _have_ understood properly what the other meant, but that proved rather difficult, because _what exactly about what had been said was ambiguous in its meaning?_ He watched his friend with a strange anticipation, which he hoped was not too noticeably painted in bold streaks across his face, a queasy emotion swelling inside of him like a tidal wave before the crash. _Say it_ , a frantic voice inside his head shouted. _Say it_.

Just as Mahdi opened his mouth to answer him, Magnus also reached some sort of epiphany and beat him to it, eyes round and bulging as he almost choked on his drink after the short amount of time he spent mulling over what had been insinuated before coming to a realization.

“Wait, are you saying that Sonja and Even broke it off?”

“ _Implying_ ,” Mahdi clarified, raising an eyebrow for additional emphasis. “I heard some girls talk about it, when I stood behind them in line for the cash-register this morning. I realized pretty quickly they were from your department, but according to the way they were discussing the issue, I’m not sure how close they are to either Sonja or Even, because it all sounded a lot like second-hand information to me, a load of _‘he said, she said’_ bullshit. I thought you guys might know more.”

_You guys_. He meant Isak and Jonas, which was evident with how he kept exchanging a meaningful glance between them, but if he _at any point_ noticed Isak’s odd demeanour with the sudden change of the subject matter, he decided not to call him out on it and focused on the unsuspicious behaviour of the other boy instead.

“First time hearing about it,” Jonas announced without having to really think it through. Obviously, he did not have to. He did not know and he _could not have known,_ because even Isak was tumbling in the dark in this case.

That was _not the problem_. The problem was that his best friend’s immediate dismissal of the topic created an automatic shift of attention to Isak himself, and that again meant that he had certain expectations to fulfil. _Was he supposed to say something along the same lines and deny knowing anything about it?_ Technically, he would not be telling a proper lie, because he had no idea about the presumably split couple, but he would still be withholding a much larger truth and that could potentially get him into trouble. There was a reason for him being considered _an absolutely bad liar_ , which proved all the more prominent in situations, where he became nervous in the most edgy of manners. And _yet_ , he still had to do something. _What exactly were his options?_

When he was about to shrug it off in a more or less disinterested fashion, because that was the only thing he could actually go for, Magnus intercepted with his otherwise inappropriate timing, which thankfully spared Isak from a possible interrogation. Temporarily.

“So what, they separated _just like that_ after four years together?” Magnus cringed in doubt, looking as though he had eaten something particularly sour, and threw a quick glance in the aforementioned girl’s direction. “They looked like they were doing fine.”

They probably had been doing fine, except for maybe that one _teeny tiny_ issue that involved Even developing an irresistible interest for their co-dancer behind Sonja’s back, which eventually led to him screwing said dancer out of what was left of his virginity a few days back, _my fucking God_. Putting it into such a perspective made the reality of it all the more wrong.

Blinded by his heart’s desire, Isak never clearly saw those temptations for what they were, until it dawned on him in the most horrible of ways, a _shattering ultimatum that depicted the point of no return_.

Isak sensed the beginnings of a revolting headache starting at his temples in the form of light ripples, the buzz of anxiety along the tips of his fingers, which he attempted to curl into his palms. It was all too fast _, too absurd_ as though it was an out of body experience, yet it was very real and it was already happening. _Something_ was happening, and it was announcing a prospect that left him unusually anxious for some reason.

Amongst the numerous questions reeling inside his mind, one intimidating thought stood out like a sore thumb, a question that allowed a wave of paranoia to consume him. It was the loudest one and screamed for Isak’s immediate attention. _Does she know?_ He feared the worst, but nothing could provide him with a solid affirmative answer, since he had not been contacted by the girl in the form of a threat and had not been cornered in the hallway for a confrontation. Maybe she was just not the confrontational type, or maybe it did not matter in the frame of the bigger picture. Either way, it seemed more likely that he was not connected to any of the news involving the couple, but then _what was going on?_

“Any indication to what happened?” Magnus asked Mahdi, who was apparently the only person at the table with any kind of useful information regarding the matter.

“No, and I really doubt those girls know anything either.” He shrugged his shoulders, seemingly less intrigued by the idea of it all once he caught on that no one else was able to contribute to it. _Funny_ , because now Isak was the one that needed some answers, and _he needed them badly._ “It looks more like an unjustified rumour to me, and maybe that’s all it is.”

_An unjustified rumour._ Isak allowed himself another glance at Sonja, who had already taken a seat at one of the tables that were situated right next to the windows, where she began a conversation with a person sitting opposite of her. Observing her facial expressions and body language for a few long beats, Isak realized there might be some truth to Mahdi’s assumption, because she did not look notably distraught or sullen, neither did she seem overly sad or beaten down. Nothing _out of the ordinary_. All of it could only be a ridiculous rumour that got blown out of proportions, undoubtedly one of the more popular past time activities for students, who suffered from the absence of drama in their lives, considering most of them were overwhelmed by their busy schedules.

Nevertheless, Isak could not shake off a quaint feeling that made his skin crawl, a sensation that told him _something was not right_ , and he was determined not to speculate on it any further. The incident made him comprehend what was blatantly obvious. _He had to know the truth_.

He cracked in less than five minutes and pulled out his phone, the device itself hidden underneath the table top to remain obscured from curious eyes. Sparing his intentions a second thought made him linger for a brief second, but it ultimately did not stop him from typing out a message and sending it. Screw dignity, and _screw his bruised ego_.

_‘This may be a little out of place, but I have to talk to you. I heard something and I don’t know what to think about it. Text me.’_

Isak kept an eye on his phone for the remainder of their lunch. In the end, all that he was left with was a cold, half-finished meal and a screen void of notifications, and when nothing changed by the time they left the cafeteria, heading in different directions for their respective classes, he decided to try again. It was _more vague and less confident_.

_‘I’ll be seeing you at practice today, right?‘_

This message got ignored just like the previous ones, but _holly shit_ Isak did not want to appear neurotic or even worse _disgustingly clingy_ by going for a third and final attempt of getting some kind of response from the dancer. He did end up writing Even a simple ‘please, answer me’, which he never got to send. It didn’t matter that it was pretty much _the only thing he could count on_.

 

_Broken hearts lie all around me,_

_And I don’t see an easy way to get out of this._

*

Isak did not get to see Even at practice, and something told him it was _not a coincidence_.

The lack of bewilderment in light of Even’s absence and his failure to show up at the group’s practice session later that same day was not at all unexpected or just _not unexpected enough_ , and there was more than Isak’s intuition that let him know the turn of events had not come out of the blue. It became an entirely different situation with an additional reference to Sonja, who was also missing. What made that extra bizarre? It was the first time she had ever missed a practice of theirs.

After the notion of _both of their disappearances_ became completely absorbed into his consciousness, Isak’s original instinct consisted of him running to the bathroom, where he could proceed to empty his unsettled bowels, which were not full to begin with, but since _Endre_ looked considerably put off by the sudden unavailability of two out of four dancers, he made sure to push the urge straight back down, with a peculiarly pungent flavour in his mouth lingering behind. He could only guess what their dance instructor was feeling, his mind running in circles as he internally stressed about the delayed schedule and overall progress that was winding down to a standstill.

This was the authoritative figure that was responsible for them, and Isak found his position an unfair one under the existing conditions. _It was as it was_ , but just because they were behaving like careless teenagers, the man in charge of them was having a hard time.

Still, he would not end up getting the short end of the stick. _They would_.

They have already managed to squander a couple of practice sessions, because one or the other individual had been unable to attend for whatever reason, and even though those may have been _valid reasons_ , it was starting to look like this was _becoming a habit_ of theirs. At this rate, they would have to expand the group’s schedule to a minimum of three sessions per week, on occasion maybe four, which would be unfortunate for all of them, but also a sacrifice they would all be willing to make in hindsight. They could not afford to fall behind anymore.

Endre knew that _very well_ and was not prepared to toss away another workout only because half of the group was missing, so he instructed Emma and Isak to begin with their warm-up as he stepped aside to make some calls in the hope of finding out why neither of the two other dancers made it to the rehearsal. Whatever information he managed to gather during those calls neither of them was able to acquire, although they both tried listening in on him from across the room, where they were doing their stretches.

“Are we going to pretend that we don’t want to talk about it?”

Isak snapped his head in Emma’s direction, turning completely away from sneaking glances at their dance instructor to look at the petite girl, who was in the process of folding herself in half by bending all the way down to wrap her hands around her ankles to remain in that position. She was not taking notice of him, as though what she had said was absolutely _not a big deal_.

It definitely was a little bit of a big deal and she was being awfully blunt about it.

“You’re clearly not.” He responded more audaciously than he had intended to, with way too much bite than he thought was appropriate, but he hoped the addition of his exaggerated nonchalance was good enough to mask it. He flexed one of his arms above his head until he heard a joint crack in just the right place. The skill was not to come across as _too eager_ , or _too forward_ in his case.

The two of them did not have to specify what they were trying to talk about, and both of them knew _exactly_ where their curiosities lay, _no point in pretending or denying._ Curious creatures always give in to their desires and they were no different.

“Do you _not want to_?” She countered with a voice that carried a presumptuous ring to it, her body still locked in a pose that avoided eye contact, and Isak was not sure he understood what she wanted from him. He could not decide whether this was her approach to make him _admit to his interest in the matter_ or to make him _feel bad for it._ “It’s one thing to spread rumours and a completely different thing to want to make sense of what’s actually going on.”

_Is it though?_ Emma might have had the right intentions in mind, an attitude that would not exploit the affairs of their co-dancers for the means of good gossip, but what they would essentially be doing could very easily become _just that_. There was a narrow margin between both perspectives, which could be crossed back and forth solely by a sufficient amount of impatience and naiveté. None could tell to what degree they would be able to condone their behaviour.

“What do you think is going on?” Isak decided to go ahead and pull out all the stops while he was at it, while they were _still having this conversation_ , because maybe and _only maybe_ Emma had some sort of useful information that she could share with him, though he highly doubted that was the state of things. The girl was probably just as clueless.

“I’m not sure, and that’s kind of _what_ is bothering me. Not knowing for sure.” Emma straightened up again and proceeded to bend her arms in the same manner Isak was doing, the only difference was that she kept curving them a little more to the back than he was. She made sure that she was facing him so that he could see her face this time, to watch as it twisted into a mixture of displeasure and reflection. “It’s childish to spend so much time talking trash about two dancers you’re familiar with, like the girls in our year are doing. And I can’t even ask Sonja about it, because I don’t want her to think that I’m _just like them_ , that I’m just asking out of selfishness. I don’t want to seem insensitive, you know?”

_He knew enough_ to understand what she meant. There was this unavoidable point of uncertainty, marked by the question of how one should navigate along such a fine line that was bound to get trespassed one time or another, whether on purpose or by mistake. _You don’t want to hurt someone,_ and despite the fact that _you only mean well_ , when _you know and they know_ that you have assumptions about them it can put a strain on the existing connection.

Some people choose to play along, and some prefer to shy away from it. _That’s it_.

“Have you heard anything from Even?” No, _he had not_. That was as far as the truth was willing to go, because Isak _indeed had not_ heard a word from the other boy, and he told Emma as much, but did not go into detail about how he tried to talk to him instead. Rather than that, Isak let that thought simmer on its own as he held onto the handlebar with so much force that he could hear the noise of his taut flesh stretch across the polished wood.

“Do you think _those theories_ have something to do with the two of them not showing up to practice today?” He felt sick with guilt and deception, with all of the unsaid sins he had committed, _all of that_ hidden offense he had caused without anybody else knowing about it, but he still had to ask. He had to hear Emma’s opinion. _Do you think there is any credibility behind it?_

It showed just how much of a bad person he actually was.

“I think they’ve been through too much together to just end it _like that_ ,” Emma answered after a moment’s pause, an extended interval reserved for an intake of breath that was laced with deliberate hesitation. Isak noticed it immediately.

_That’s what she wanted to believe_. Her answer carried little conviction, with her bravado doing all it could do to mask the unpredictability of her words, and she was aware of it as well. She was afraid of the truth and all its possibilities, because she had no desire for her ideals to be torn down like they were nothing important. _Ideals of something she dreamed of having for herself one day_.

There was nothing Isak could respond with, there was nothing _he wished to respond with_ to that, since it would not prevent him from looking like an even bigger asshole than he already was. The good thing was that he did not have to, because Endre called for the both of them to join him in the centre of the practice room to continue with their session or what was left of it anyway, the two of them trying to do their best without the other half of the group present.

It was not until after they had finished their routine of the day, not until after Isak had gotten to the changing room and showered off the sweat clinging to his body that he chanced a look at his phone, only to be stunned into silence as he found a message waiting for him.

‘ _I’m sorry I didn’t answer sooner_. _You’re right, we need to talk_. _Meet me at the central bridge in Frogner Park, as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting there_.’

 

*

By the time Isak made it to the park, the sun hung low on the horizon, dipping the surroundings of the grounds in various hues of an enticing orange colour that made everything glisten in the likes of amber, the coexistent nature and _Vigeland installation_ sculptures having the ability to settle people into an ephemeral trance that was accompanied by the occasional sounds of rustling leaves and wisps of air. A _picturesque beauty_ to behold and to admire.

Yet all Isak could think about was getting to the bridge as fast as possible, the soles of his feet tingling with the burn of concrete floor under them as he ran _to him_. Loud, short-cut gasps for breath buzzed in his ears as he raced past the tennis courts, down the promenade and all the way across the entire length of the bridge with a biting pain in his throat and wild eyes in search of the person he _longed to see_. The fear of not being able to see him, missing him by a hair or simply not finding him wherever he would be waiting for Isak, made him all the more desperate, _all the more skittish,_ even if that fear proved to be for naught once the other end of the bridge came into view.

Catching his breath, Isak licked his dry lips in an attempt of getting some warmth and moisture back into his mouth while he staggered to a full stop a few metres away from a specific boy. A boy, who stood there unmoving as though he were a statue himself, and even with the space still separating them, Isak could see enough of him to know that this was _the same boy_ , to whom he had lost not only his heart, but apparently also a little bit of his soul.

_There was Even_. At the very edge of the bridge, impossibly tall and athletically lithe just as Isak remembered him, leaning against the railing of massive stone and appearing to be looking into the distance, with wind in his hair and red on his cheeks. On closer inspection, Isak became aware that he was actually gazing into the water below, his stare almost transfixed on the cool depths of the pond. _He found him_.

Getting to see Even _, finally_ getting to see Even made Isak feel alleviated and restless all at once, as though an incredibly heavy burden had been lifted of his chest while a tight, large knot formed inside his intestines. It was punishing and nauseating, but for some reason oddly wonderful. Just like Even had described it.

It made him feel so out of place that he ended up standing there and watching the other, taking in his form that was partially hidden underneath a thick, olive green jacket and hoping that _he_ would spot him eventually. Maybe that would be enough to make him feel a little bit braver, a little bit _bolder_. After what were mere seconds but seemed like the longest minutes Isak had ever endured, it looked like his prayers were answered and he thanked the heavens, when Even raised his head and angled it towards Isak, consequently laying his eyes on him, realizing _it was him_ and immediately faltering in the process. Almost like he could not believe Isak was actually there.

_One, two, three_ large gulps of air. He could do this.

They were still too far apart for them to be able to hear each other without shouting, for them to really be able to look each other in the eyes, so Isak had to prove that it actually made him braver or _brave enough_ , if you will, and drag his feet step by step in order of approaching the other, who had turned fully into Isak’s direction. _Slowly, unhurriedly_. Like they had all the time in the world, even if they did not.

Even was fumbling with his hands, which he all too quickly stuck into the pockets of his jeans as soon as Isak ventured closer to him, reducing the space that still stretched itself between them until they were within each other’s reach.

“You came.”

His voice was an interesting blend of mellow and raspy, but it somehow managed to make Even sound so genuinely relieved that Isak nearly leaped the remaining, almost non-existent distance separating them to fall into his arms, taking refuge by wrapping himself around him just because he missed his touch. So _fucking_ much.

The only thing stopping him from doing so was a promise he made to himself, a promise to not be such a _lovesick fool_ and break so easily, but more importantly _so willingly_.

“O _f course_ I came,” he breathed, a sense of comfort washing over him, when he noticed that he was still _very much_ able to use his voice under the circumstances. Apart from possibly looking a little bit phased out and bordering on disoriented, he was doing considerably well, when _in fact_ all he really wanted to do was cry a cascading waterfall of salty tears that would run down the sides of his face in wide stripes, cry until his head hurt and his eyes grew tired. In moments like these Isak wished he could allow himself to be extraordinarily young and vulnerable without any repercussions.

Since that was out of the question, Isak’s next instinct was to shout obscenities and create a scene by _losing his shit_ for no apparent reason, but he was also too exhausted to even try that. Then again, Even was apparently not doing any better or so Isak observed, when he took in the other’s face, appearing as drained as Isak felt. Sunken eyes, ghastly complexion. No sleep for a while either.

“Even, what is this? What is―” Isak almost choked on his words, quiet and spiritless, while his vision glazed over with oncoming tears that would never fall. He licked his lips once again and closed his eyes for a brief second. “ _What the fuck_ is going on?”

Solemn as he stood there without uttering anything else, unsure and debating on his next move, Even averted his gaze from Isak to likely talk himself into a decision that he would have to make. A decision that was _inevitable_ and Isak had to come to an understanding of what that could ultimately mean for him, for Even. _For the both of them._

There was no doubt, no postponing, no beating around the bush. This was the moment that would determine their potential future or _absence thereof_.

Following the short delay, Even heaved a sigh and removed a hand out of the pocket of his denims to grab at one of Isak’s own hands, which readily let the boy wrap his fingers around the wrist and gently pull Isak forward, nearer to Even’s body and then along with him, guiding him off the bridge and to the nearest bench where he slowed to a stop, threw Isak one last glance and gestured for him to take a seat.

As gentle as it was, the problem with the gesture was that Isak was _not having it_. He did not want to take a seat and he absolutely did not want to patiently take whatever Even had to break to him. He needed answers, but he had no desire to _just take it,_ much less be calm or collected during any of it. That was too much to ask for. So, without him budging from his position, but with his hand still enclosed in Even’s grasp, Isak made sure to convey that to the other through an unwavering, mostly glassy stare directed straight at him. It worked as far as Isak was concerned, because Even caved in soon enough, letting go of his hand and plopping himself down onto the hard surface so that he ended up sitting just about in front of Isak, who remained standing. _Standing there_ , watching and waiting.

“There are a few things I need to tell you about, but at this point I don’t really know where to begin,” Even spoke up, talking more towards the ground because he had his head hanging low to focus on his hands instead of Isak, examining his fingers in a peculiarly edgy, almost neurotic manner. “I don’t know what to say or how to say it _right_ , and that’s stupid.”

“Just start somewhere.” Isak steadied his voice and stance, running his tongue over the top of his teeth to prevent himself from bouncing on a foot in the dread that befell him. _Take it easy_. “You owe me an explanation.”

The sad, remorseful eyes Even raised to meet Isak’s head on and the apologetic intentions swimming inside those big blue orbs of his made Isak hold his breath, giving cause for a feeling of something unidentifiable crawling beneath his skin.

“That is not the only thing I owe you.”

_This is it_ , thought Isak. This will forever sketch itself into his memory as the distinctly painful incident in which Even broke his heart. This boy, who he had fallen for despite the whole universe telling him not to, _warning him_ not to, because it would never have a happy ending, _this particular boy_ , who was everything Isak could have wished for, would end up hurting him.

He should have seen it coming, should have known from the beginning. He had _himself to blame_ , he knew that as well. Sadly, that knowledge did not make it hurt any less.

Looking at Even as he sat there before him, all Isak could really see were fragments of the night they spent together, thinking about how the last time he saw the other boy they were _happy and fulfilled_ , a bundle of limbs and lips, eager on touching, tasting, _feeling_ each other in all the right places, with all the right initiatives. Naked planes of undiscovered skin still to be explored, still to be revelled in between broken moans, stolen kisses and heavy-beating hearts.

Yet, all of that was irrelevant now. Another meaningless part of the past, a small shred of _bliss_ tucked away in his memory so that life could go on. _It always did_. That was just the nature of things. Which is why Isak decided to pull himself together, biting down on the inside of his cheek to tamp down the pulsating of his nerves throughout his body, all the while weighing the possibilities of him walking away from this fairly unharmed, but the chances seemed slim.

Then Even uttered what had become the long-awaited sentence of his wishful thinking and rendered Isak’s precautions completely meaningless.

“Sonja and I are not together anymore.”

Since he had been bracing himself for something entirely different, something he would like to call the devastation of his forsaken longings, Isak could not quite grasp an appropriate reaction to Even’s words, the tension inside his lungs expanding tenfold before gradually deflating to a point, where he fully recognized their meaning and categorized it.

“Although I’m convinced this is _not exactly_ new information for you.”

The pair’s separation had been on the table for some heated debate amongst a handful of students, who were greedy for any kind of scandalous news brewing within the academy’s range, but that was by no means a guarantee for an actual truth behind the assumptions. There was no reason for Isak to believe them.

“I overheard some rumours, _yes_.” It was the only thing Isak could come up with, his mind still trudging behind the awareness of the situation, a bland numbness on the surface of his tongue and a fuzziness that was beginning to give way to a more clear perception of Even’s confession. A confession that only told him Even and Sonja ceased to remain a couple, without disclosing the _why and how_ that came about, and while the details of the fallout were undeniably the deciding factor for the current development of events, Isak feared there was a _bad touch_ to them, like a cruel backstory no one wanted to hear. _The real reason for their break-up._

“Is that all?” Isak heard how his own voice grew louder and more forceful, meant to protect his fragile heart from any renewed hope by hanging onto a few meagre words that could mean _absolutely nothing_. “After you disappeared from my bed and my sight for days, after you _left me_ without a single notice, the extent of your explanation is you telling me that Sonja _dumped you_ , because she found out you were cheating?”

Admittedly, it was a risk to assume a fate like that had transpired and accuse the other of being such a coward about it. What led him to that conclusion was beyond Isak’s comprehension, but he would bet his money on all of his insecurities and the upper hand he felt he needed to have over them. As soon as he had said it, he knew that it _might not have been_ the best assumption to make on a whim, but it was simply put _a primal instinct_ he went with. One that he had become accustomed to during the past few years.

“What? Where did you―” If not for anything else, Isak had serious doubts about his accusations the second Even looked up at him, fearlessly making their eyes meet to show how much he was not _that coward_ , his features a little confused, a little agitated and more than slightly offended by his choice of words. “Sonja didn’t _dump_ me, Isak. I told her I wanted to break up.”

And _maybe_ that was all it took for Isak to change his mind, because he was suddenly perfectly willing to allow himself to cherish some of that persistent hope for the first time that day and listen to everything Even had to say before making the wrong allegations. Taking a deep breath that would seem shallow to every other onlooker, Isak held a steady gaze on the boy, who had hung his head again to play with his hands and mumble words of importance towards the ground as though he was ashamed, but not for what Isak had initially thought.

“I insisted for us to have a talk on Saturday evening, so we could do this without a distraction,” Even continued, deliberating on what to say so he would not drag the whole thing out. “Before that, I had kept to myself for most of the remaining day, thinking long and hard about how I was going to approach the situation.”

“How you were going to approach it?” He should have ended it after the first strike, after he had found out that it was not the way he had pictured it, but Isak could not simply stop there, not with all these _pent up emotions_ finally breaking onto the surface. Even could have easily been lying to him, even though Isak did not peg him for that sort of liar. “Don’t you mean _whether_ you were going to go through with it at all?”

“No, Isak.” Even shook his head, incredulous yet not angry. “I decided to end things with Sonja the moment you opened your door that night, maybe even earlier. There was no denying that I felt like there was no chance of going back for us and, more importantly, no purpose for going on.”

There it was, _clear as crystal_. With that said, Isak had nothing substantial to fall back to, no proper excuse for a reason to find proof of loopholes in Even’s explanation, at least for the time being. Most of all, he _really_ just wanted to believe him.

“You merely made that decision more sincere, made it palpable and resolute, when you looked at me in a way that I didn’t quite realize could exist, not in this life at least. _This particular look_ that I hadn’t thought someone could actually share with another person.”

In that moment, and despite the determined delay, Even once again took up the courage to face Isak’s pleading eyes, and he did this without remorse, without an ounce of shame clouding his vision. This was Even, with all of his confidence laid out for the judgement. _Isak’s judgement_.

“It made me hopeful, and I subconsciously wondered whether I was looking back at you in that same _particular_ way.” His eyes appeared soft and honest, a small smile barely passing by the corner of his lips like an involuntary twitch of the mouth, as if he was still amazed by it all. “Somehow, I knew the answer.”

_Somehow, I knew_. Isak felt his whole world expand with possibilities at the words, like a door to his heart flying open with the force of an unpredictable gush of wind, leaving an unwanted and brittle opening behind. It gripped him with underlying fear, laced with a growing amount of attainable desires.

“I can’t keep on pretending anymore. Not when I don’t feel for her the same way I used to, not when every cell in my body is trying to tell me that _I never felt like I do right now_.” Even disentangled his hands and brought one of them to his mouth, where he began to rub a finger along the lower lip like there was an itch. Oddly enough, Isak could feel it too. An _irritating ghost of a feeling_ that was not actually there. “For my sake and for Sonja’s, I cannot continue lying about how I feel, much less keep on sneaking around with you behind her back like I don’t care. After all, she’s important to me as well and in some way she always will be.”

An undeniable pang of hurt travelled deep throughout his chest in the wake of that confession, but Isak felt stupid for it, _stupid and immature_ for such a reaction. Even’s statement was a perfectly normal reflection of the residual emotions for a former flame that meant as much as Sonja meant to Even, or clearly _had meant_ to Even. It was truly petty of him for being jealous of the girl that was Even’s first love, but he could not help it. _This kind of pettiness_ , he would keep it to himself.

“I can understand that.” The words fell from his lips almost on their own account, like a settled reflex just waiting to happen. Something predetermined, as though he knew exactly what he wanted to say to Even from the very beginning, with an explanation he _desperately_ wanted to hear in response. “That doesn’t explain why you suddenly went off-grid, Even.”

“I realize that now, but I can’t really tell you why.” Even whispered, like he feared to speak louder, like _he knew_ it was his fault for not being able to explain to Isak and his alone. Maybe he was not able to, maybe he just did _not want to_ , and that made Isak all the more wary of everything he was being told, with the limit to his reliance on Even wearing thin _._ “One day I want to give you all the answers you’re asking for.”

_But not today_ , is what he was truly saying. _Not now, not in this pivotal moment_. Isak wished to press some more, wished to push more relentlessly for the insight he thought he deserved, but once again he was ridiculously willing to place trust in the hint of a promise in Even’s voice and the beseeching straightforwardness of his mesmerizing eyes, so he decided to let it go.

There were other things that needed attention. Much _bigger_ things.

“I am _so sorry_ about that and I mean it.” Even reached for his hands, which were dangling loosely at his sides, bringing them together to hold them inside his own and anchoring them there with a purpose, all _tight and dire_. His own hands were cold to the touch, but Isak still basked in the comfort they gave him, because _he really had missed Even’s touch_. “I am sorry for leaving, for not calling or texting, for leaving you in the dark, but most of all for making you think you were at fault in any way.”

Lost somewhere between the start and end of the onslaught of Even’s apology, the quiver of Isak’s hands clawed its way to the forefront. He could feel it and Even must have felt it too. A combination of trepidation and thrill governing his limbs, the ripples running through the unsteady appendages he was cradling in his palms, with his hold subsequently becoming stronger in order to bind Isak to himself.

“I seem to be doing this a lot lately.”

“Hurting people, who care about you?” Isak’s strenuous breathing created an interesting contrast to his eerily calm voice that was tiptoeing around heavy implications and carrying the burden of heartfelt doubt. He _still_ let Even hold his hands. “Disappointing them?”

“None of it is intentional.” _It never is in situations like this_ , thought Isak solemnly while looking into Even’s face, clouded in various hues of conflict. _Most of them at least._ “I never meant for any of this, and now all I seem to be doing is apologizing to a point, where words are morphing into pointless excuses as oppose to sincere thoughts.”

_Sincere thoughts_. If Even was so adamant to show his sincere thoughts then _this_ , right there and right then, was the ultimate chance for the other boy to prove it to Isak. To prove that he was being true to his word, but more than that _true to his heart_. Isak just hoped his faith in Even was big enough to make him believe it, because truth be told, it was proving to be a more difficult feat than Isak could have imagined, especially since he was being crowded into a corner by his diversified concerns.

“Why did you suddenly leave like that?” In essence, _that_ was actually all that was truly important, the single piece of information that really mattered to him. As much as he was trying to convince himself otherwise, Isak only wished to understand one thing. _Why did you leave me like that?_

Then again, if the building hesitation to Even’s reply was anything to go by, the same issue presented struggles large enough for him to have trouble conveying it to Isak. _It was written all over his face_ , in the slightest hunch of his shoulders and tense posture, which was a non-existent change to everyone not capable of differentiating between the various aspects of muscle contraction. Even took a deep breath, but did not say anything at first, only continued to move his fingers across the skin of Isak’s hands.

“It's difficult for me to put my actions into a perspective that does not make them absolutely selfish, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to make this about me right now.” _But it is, isn’t it?_ Isak could not deny that he was feeling more and more like a hypocrite himself, considering he was not that better off in that regard. _This is all because of you_.

Instead of telling Even as much, Isak stepped deeper into the spread of Even’s legs, close enough for the shins right underneath his knees to push only slightly against the other’s inner thighs and settle there with a light weight. He waited until the other boy tilted his head back for him, just enough so that he could _properly_ look him in the face, with his searching gaze and red-tinted nose from the chill of the evening that was about to set in. Despite _being the mess that he was_ , there was still something about him that made Isak short of breath. While Even’s eyes curiously followed his every move, Isak took the liberty of combing through the other’s dishevelled hair in the most placating manner he could muster, nothing but a comforting drag of his fingers against the scalp to savour the moment for what it was.

“You can still try.”

Initially, Even leaned into the touch of is hand as though it was the only place of solace for him, a sigh of resignation leaving his lips like a prayer that took forever to be spoken, before he finally angled his head away from it like it was a forsaken sanctuary and he was not allowed to seek the warmth and love it was willing to give. Isak did not flinch at the act, merely lowered his hand again and observed the other as he reclined his upper body against the backrest of the bench, physically distancing himself even further. _For whatever reason._

“ _That_ night, I couldn’t fall asleep.” Even began tiredly yet cautiously, as though he was choosing his words with care. Something told Isak that he was doing _exactly_ that and he wondered about the cause for the decision, because there certainly was one. There _had to be_. “I couldn’t fall asleep, so I passed the time by watching you drift off instead, and as your breathing finally evened out, the world around me slowed down. _Boxed me in_ and opened its doors _._ Even though it was just you and me inside that room, suddenly everything outside the safety of it came rushing back in.”

Even seemed _too far_ away, in each and every perspective from which Isak was trying to evaluate him. He actually felt _deprived of his proximity_. Not only the kind yearning for physical contact, even though that one was pulling at his strings the easiest and tugging at his heart the hardest, so Isak moved to the boy’s right and slowly lowered himself down onto the bench next to him, with his frame halfway directed towards the other and his hands clammy as they came to rest on the uneven wood of the seating surface. Isak may have been silent, _so silent_ that he probably appeared apathetic on the outside, but he was _listening_. He was listening the entire time, because Even needed him to listen and he needed to hear it.

“There was this overwhelming feeling of claustrophobic restraint that came over me. I felt so small, so _incompetent_ , because I was unable to change anything that was waiting to combust on account of _this thing_ between us, and so out of touch, because I didn’t feel like I could deal with it.”

 “Because of me.” The words washed over Isak with a sad realization. _It had been because of him_.

He knew what Even meant and _he knew_ that it was not his fault, but the backdrop of the existing situation he had somehow contributed to still had a bitter tinge to it. _How messed up was this?_ Being the cause _without intentionally being the cause_ , if that analogy made any sense.

“Not _like that_ , not the way you’re thinking.” Even took action to reassure him as soon as he saw his immediate reaction, his voice pouring out of him in the wake of his clarification to ensure that Isak would discard any similar thoughts. His eyes were dusted with a layer of adoration, his face exhibiting a glow of wonder that might just have pacified Isak to the brink of a crumbling resolution. “I’ve never felt like this for someone. Never have I wanted to be with anyone more than I want to be with you, and that was just _a lot to take in_.”

Isak did not say anything, he did not _need to_. Seeing as words would be nothing but idle, seeing as words would not be able to express what he wanted them to, so they were useless to him. _Utterly useless_. The only thing he really needed to do was hold Even’s gaze, eyes upon eyes with a growing amount of hope between them in the belief that this was as mutual as their budding feelings for each other.

The distance between them was charged with a crackling tension that was getting thicker with each passing second, a beautiful revelation that was wrapped up into a cocoon of uncertainty. _Would they become brave enough for a chance at something that could be worth it?_ Even’s hand grazed against his, tentatively testing the waters before descending upon it with a feather-like touch that came to rest there. A much desired weight, which Isak found both liberating and grounding. He did not attempt to move that hand in order to interlace their fingers, because there was no urgency to do so.

It was perfect _just as it was_.

“How did she take it?” Isak made the effort to break the quiet that had fallen upon them, and sure enough his voice was rather hoarse, particularly to his own ears. Not to be misunderstood or anything, he was not trying to build up on his ego with the information or feed off Sonja’s misery after their fallout. He would find no happiness and absolutely no elevation from the girl’s heartbreak. _The opposite_ , actually.

He was genuinely interested in her current disposition, concerned even more so about the possible decline of her well-being from the recent events and _the amount of pain this had already caused._

“Not that well.” That was an understatement, and Isak was certain of it. There was more to it _than that_ , more to the frown stretched across Even’s face while he thought back on their critical conversation and the aftermath of their break-up, but it was not Isak’s place to ask about it. In all honesty, it was _nobody’s place_ to do so. It did not feel right to probe into a subject so raw and _so private_ , even if they were trying to be as sincere and outspoken as possible with each other.

“Does she know?” Isak asked, glancing down into his lap out of embarrassment. It seemed strange to inquire about the matter in such a way, even though he did not know exactly why. Maybe he did not want Even to think he was pushing for an agenda and pressuring the boy into revealing him as the other’s dirty secret, because _he was not_. Nothing like that. Even so, he had to understand where they stood in that aspect. _What were they?_ _Where should they go from there?_ “About me, I mean.”

“No.” Even admitted to it without reluctance, despite the minor twitch of his hand that was still resting on top of his own and telling a different story about his supposed composure. He was being straightforward, altogether also relatively nervous and it was _the least bit surprising_. “Considering everything all of us are caught up in at the moment, I think it would be best to keep _us_ to ourselves for a while longer.”

_That was probably for the best_. Isak came to recognize that they were of the same mind as soon as his thoughts gave it some consideration. Actually, it was _definitely for the best_ , particularly due to the present arrangements of their dance unit. There was also no possibility of avoiding the consequences that were yet to come. After the couple’s split, the group would undoubtedly experience a fair share of unpleasant tension, the strain and awkwardness between the ex-sweethearts leaving them with a void in their harmony and a great deal to work on, but should it be revealed that Even left his long-term girlfriend for one of their co-dancers, the damage would most likely be irreparable.

_The Lovers_ would not be anything akin to lovers anymore, with their compatibility crumbling into ashes under the weight of distrust and resentment. It would ruin _everything_ for them.

When Even looked at him for any kind of approval, he was met with something that Isak hoped was a soft stare and a small nod of the head that would ensure the other dancer that he was in agreement with him. In agreement that they would _fuck up even more_ were they to be open about them. _No good would come of it for now._ Besides, before doing anything of the top of their heads, they needed some time for themselves, time to reflect upon their decisions and feelings, time to recover from the stress and fatigue that left an imprint on their bodies in the last few days. Maybe even weeks.

So, immediately after noticing that the sky above them was already turning dark and just as the outdoor lights began to throw mystic brightness upon their remote areas, Isak finally curled his fingers around Even’s with the purpose of getting the other’s attention. _It was time for them to get some rest_.

 

*

_I just died in your arms tonight,_

_It must’ve been something you said._

Upon entering the apartment, Isak managed to sneak Even into his room, after he had succeeded with smuggling him past William’s room, which on the evidence of the dark stripe of space under the door insinuated that it was vacant, as well as the bathroom, where Eskild’s singing voice could be heard over the sound of the shower running. Isak figured he could deal with both of them in the morning, but for the time being it was _just him and Even_.

They stripped down to their T-shirts and underwear before they crawled onto Isak’s bed and got under the covers, drifting into the warmth and snugness they found there with brittle bones and kindled souls. Instinctively, they met somewhere in the middle, their bodies searching for additional tenderness in each other’s touch as they tangled themselves up into one another, winding their arms around their upper halves and pressing their heads close together until they were able to breathe each other’s air. Hot and sultry, and by some means _all out pure_.

“We haven’t really thought this through, have we?” Isak whispered into the small space still left between them, his soundless voice withholding distressful reservations while it got lost in the spot just below the other’s jawline. _How are we supposed to make this work?_

Even tried to peer down at him from an awkward angle due to their positions in order of seeing more of the boy he was holding nearest to his heart and the boy, whom he was holding in his embrace yet again. _After all the chaos, he was safely tucked into Even’s side once more, pressed up against him exactly where he should be._ Isak was able to recognize the direction in which his emotions were freely radiating, but the decision to instead keep on staring at the other’s skin remained an unwavering one as he zeroed in on a beauty mark, skimming across it with a single finger in something close to fascination.

_How can we justify our choices? How can we extenuate the consequences?_

“Nobody can expect to have everything figured out right away.” He brushed his hand through Isak’s hair just like the younger one had done to him before and placed it gently on his neck, so that he could continue playing with the separate strands at the base of his nape as well as stroke along the surface of his lower cheek. Even was always touching him in ways Isak had never been touched before, and being touched _like a precious frailty_ was just another one on the list he had stored in a special corner of his memory _._ Safe to say, Isak was incapable of resisting their eye-contact after the simple gesture and he _had never wanted to_ in the first place, so what precisely was the point in his persistence, especially when it was so much more rewarding to look the other boy into his soul _._

_Green met blue,_ and everything else fell into place.

“You said to me that it would be reckless to throw away my relationship for an infatuation, but if that’s the risk I have to take to be with you, even when I don’t know what to expect from it or where we might end up, I want to be a little reckless.” Even seemed to constantly know the right things to say, and although Isak could not tell whether that was a stroke of luck or simply a shot in the dark, it was perfect either way. Perfect words and _perfect things_ to make him believe that one day he could be just as brave. Just as _inspiring_. “That’s all I need to have figured out at the moment.”

Isak shuffled even closer to the other’s body, right until they could almost entirely feel each other through every plane and every curve, the tip of his nose rubbing into the softness of the other’s cheek while he concentrated on dragging his socketed foot along Even’s calf in an unhurried pace, relishing in the pleasant friction it created. Kind of sexual, but mostly just _incredibly intimate_.

It diverted his thoughts away from all of the scary ideas that were trying to get inside his head and make him want to doubt the honesty of their choices. Those were only insecurities looking for a way to make him break and cave into them, and Isak was _definitely tempted_ , that much he was willing to admit. However, his newfound resolve was also a much stronger one. Especially after he had reminded himself that taking those chances was worth it and that Even was _more than_ worth it.

They were entitled to an opportunity at finding their happiness. _Together_.

“We will not be making amends anytime soon.” It wasn’t a question, but it still sounded like one. _This had been the easy part._ There was no denying the obvious observation both of them were able to acknowledge, even if they did not like it as it cowered deep inside their stubborn subconscious.

_They had left the otherwise easy part behind them, stepping into uncharted territory with a lot of caution, right along with a bunch of questions and speculations._

“No.” Even was not trying to be blunt, he simply knew sugar-coating it would not help either of them and Isak agreed, because _he would have done the same_. Since they were so unprepared for everything that was heading their way, it was good to know that they were on the same page about not being purposely blind to it. “But at least we have something that we can hold onto now.”

_They did_. Isak took pleasure in the thought as he caressed the edges of Even’s upper lip, tracing the faint ridges that dominated the surface, before surrendering to his greed and surging forward to place his own mouth over it, where it intended to stay so that he could finally spoil himself rotten with the taste of Even’s lips. It was all about being _slow and patient_ , as they kissed like the act itself was the most valuable thing they could have, and it was all about being _earnest and forgiving,_ as they kissed like it gave meaning to their lives, and maybe it really did. They kissed _so much_ , and then they kissed some more while their mouths worshipped all that had been taken from them, salvaged what had been returned to them, remembering and appreciating. _And loving_.

_They had so much to hold onto_.

Perhaps, and only for a while, they would be able to lock out reality the same way they locked themselves into Isak’s room with their phones forgotten and their fears disregarded, barricading themselves long enough to prevent the world they identified with from crumbling down around them completely. Somewhere in the back of their minds, hidden away in the deepest and darkest niche of their brains, both of them were well aware that it was not that simple, but they could still hope.

With an unforeseeable storm brewing on the horizon, a premonition for a disaster of unknown proportions, Isak was clawing at it like it was his only lifeline. _Please,_ just a little longer.

 

_I just died in your arms tonight,_

_It must’ve been some kind of kiss._

_I should have walked away,_

_I should have walked away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cutting Crew – (I Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight (1986) [original]  
> Hidden Citizens – I (Just) Died In Your Arms (2016) [a cover of the original; epic (impactful) music]


End file.
